#au:husband | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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🌷 This is such a good angsty piece! (I love your angsty fics). I blame neither of them because each has a shortcoming in terms of dealing with their problems. Seokjin tried the avoidance route while OC just decided on things by herself. I guess communication is lacking despite how ideal they seem when they started their relations. I honestly don't know what will make them communicate so I love that talk with the mom-in-law and how she didn't side with anyone. Love how this was written from the angsty beginning until they were able to reach that understanding. =) It was very realistic too how it ended - it didn’t feel like the problems or issues went away magically but we know they’ll try and do what’s essential because love and marriage requires effort for it to bloom too. 💙💖

with you | ksj | m

marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.

PAIRING. kim seokjin x reader

GENRE. marriage!au, divorce!au, childhood friends2lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut

WARNINGS. dilf jin, mentions of divorce (it's literally the plot😭), marriage problems, jin is kind of an asshole (who redeems himself!!!-ish), slight jealousy, soft sex, crying during sex, oral (f receiving), bigdick!jin, oc is a crybaby who tries not to cry 99.9% of this fic

WORDS. 22.1k

NOTE. it's here!!!!! I've been working on this fic for a while and im somewhat pleased with how it turned out!!!! i apologise for any errors/edit mistakes bc I run through it on my own so I may overlook some grammar issues etc ...

anywho, I hope you enjoy this fic!!!! as always - my asks are open to let me know how you felt about this fic <3

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“What is this?” he blinks.

“Divorce papers,” you say softly, smoothing out the surface while you avoid his eyes.

“You want,” he says slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he attempts to process your words. “You want a … divorce?”

You hate that he sounds so nonchalant like you weren’t mulling over this decision for the past three months as you found yourself losing hope in your marriage with each passing day. But for as long as you’ve known Jin, he’s always been like this. A little hard to understand, straightforward but never intentionally malicious. He just somehow ended up hurting people without him realising it.

“Yes,” you say.

“What about Jiho?”

The reminder of your son makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, but you were prepared for this question. In fact, your son was the only thing that made you hesitate your decision for another month because divorces were messy and even if Jiho was just four years old and probably too young to understand—he was perceptive and you didn’t want to put him through the taxing emotions of having his parents go through a divorce.

But you were exhausted of fighting alone and returning to a home that feels more isolating than welcoming.

“We’ll share custody,” you narrate the exact words you’ve been mulling over for the past few months, even if it breaks your heart to say them.

“What prompted this?” It hurts even more when Jin flips through the papers as he would with any other of his business contracts, and it’s a harsh reminder that your marriage was reaching an invincible expiry date that you wanted to ignore.

“We …” you hesitate, fingers clutching the fabric of your dress as you purse your lips. Was there a reason to justify your decision anymore, when you’ve fought tooth and nail for the past four months to be heard? To be seen as someone who wasn’t just his wife on paper but a person to be nurtured? You force yourself to look ahead, even when Jin raises an eyebrow at your silence. You settle for a soft response instead. “I think it’s for the best.”

Jin opens his mouth to say something but decides against it before he slides the papers towards him, and you half-expect him to sign it and tell you to leave. The thought only makes your heart shatter even more—because four years of marriage, a child—gone, just like that.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he offers you a curt nod with a look you can’t quite decipher.

“I’ll get back to you,” he says.

You blink, especially when he pushes himself off his desk and extends a hand towards you as if he’d expected you to grab it. The gesture doesn’t fit in with the context of the conversation, much less the emotions that thrash wildly in your heart.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Lunch,” he says, “I haven’t had it with you in a while.”

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“That took a while,” Taehyung points out when you clamber back into your office.

“I had lunch,” you respond curtly as you hang your jacket on the coat hanger while you attempt to ease the pressing headache between your temples.

“Alone?” He raises a brow.

“With Jin.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you plop onto the empty seat next to him. Your son’s fidgeting in his lap as your assistant types away at his laptop, and you’re absolutely exhausted so you extend your arms towards Jiho, who immediately turns to you with a toothy grin and leaps off Taehyung’s lap.

“Hi baby,” you press a kiss to his cheek, immediately seeking warmth in your son’s chubby body.

“Hi mama,” he returns, pressing a plush cheek into your chest when you squeeze him.

You try to keep your tears at bay, even if it’s just having your son in your arms. He doesn’t know the day you had or the meal you shared with his father. The man you married and decided to have a child with. Jiho doesn’t know that it’s over—and it hurts. It hurts because he deserved a family filled with love.

“How did it go?” Taehyung asks tentatively, swirling in his chair until he’s facing you.

You know he’s concerned. He was probably the person that received the news with the most shock, granted he was currently the only person that knew besides Jin. Taehyung has been your assistant before you relocated to this larger office and before your business set its course, and even when you and Jin were just dating. So, he knows—he knows how hard you’ve tried and when you decided that it was over.

“He didn’t even try,” you croak, eyes fluttering shut as you attempt to level your breathing to not alarm your son, “Just took the papers and said he’d get back to me.”

“He didn’t sign it?” Taehyung asks in slight surprise.

“No,” you murmur, peering down to see your son fiddling with a ribbon that sticks out your dress, “I didn’t want to ask why.”

Taehyung purses his lips before he reaches out to squeeze your available hand. The gesture is enough to remind you of what you just did—the conversation you just had with Jin, and it’s enough for your entire facade to go crumbling again.

But you don’t cry because your son is unaware of the conflict that exists between you and his father, you don’t cry because one of you needed to be strong and it had to be you.

“I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere but frankly, useless. But you don’t tell him that even if that’s all that plagues your mind. You know Taehyung knows this too, but you suppose it’s the best either of you can offer right now.

“Don’t be,” you laugh humourlessly, “You’re not the one that failed in this marriage.”

“You didn’t fail, ____,” he says sternly, “It just—some things don’t work out.”

Your lips wobble again, looking up so your son doesn’t spot your tears.

“I thought we would,” you croak, “I tried. I tried—so hard. But it still wasn’t enough.”

Taehyung stays silent, and your son is mumbling something under his breath. When you peer down, his smile remains innocent and oblivious to the world that’s falling apart right in front of his eyes.

“Mama, look,” he squeals as he lifts up an arm that he’s somehow managed to scribble on, “Mama, daddy, me!”

Taehyung has to take Jiho when you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“What do you mean he hasn’t signed it?” You hiss, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you attempt to shove old documents into the shredder.

“He … hasn’t,” Jimin, Jin’s assistant, says lamely over the line as you feel your headache return.

“Jimin, you’re his assistant,” you remind him sternly, “It’s literally your job to make sure he gets shit done.”

“I know!” He exclaims before he’s sighing, “He’s just—he keeps putting it off. I really can’t do much, ____.”

You chuck the last bit of papers aside before you’re grabbing your phone from in-between your ear and shoulders before you’re leaning against a desk, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

It’s been a week since you visited Jin at his office propositioning him with a divorce, yet, the papers remain vacant from his signature that solidified the termination of your legal union. You were more so irritated than hurt right now, purely because you wanted actual documents to present to your lawyer and your parents before you told them that you and Jin were getting a divorce.

It’s also been a week since Jin’s came home, and you’re partly thankful that he did that on his own because that was another painful conversation you weren’t quite ready to have. Not that he came home at an acceptable hour anyway. But it’s almost daunting at how the bed remains cool where he used to lay, even if he’d disappear hours before your awakening.

“Just,” you exhale, “Please get him to sign it, Jimin. I’m tired.”

You can hear some shuffling on the other end and you assume it’s him moving to another place with the way the office chatter gets distinctively quieter the longer time passes.

“Do you,” he starts, “do you really have to do this?”

You sigh, already bracing for his comment.

If Taehyung knew you and Jin before you got married, Jimin was the person that got the two of you together. The instigator that insisted that the feelings and mutual, and that the chance should be taken. You believed him ten years ago when you were younger and in high school, oblivious to what the future held. You wanted to resent him for how things out but you knew it was irrational. You would’ve fallen in love with Jin with or without Jimin’s intervention.

He was that easy to love.

The bitter reminder that the divorce seemed easy for him to accept, even without the signature, plagues your mind as you hear Jimin call your name once more.

“Do you think this was my first option?” you snap, and immediately the silence is tense. “I was backed into a corner, Jimin. There’s no point in Jin and I remaining married if—if nothing about our relationship feels like a marriage anymore.”

“What about Jiho?” he throws back the same question Jin posed at you when you first came to him with the divorce.

You grit your teeth, your heart inevitably clenching at the guilt that’s yet to subside. It only hurt more because you knew Jimin didn’t mean it to hurt you, but it did—it did because it wasn’t easy.

“I’m not taking him away from Jin,” you whisper, “I can’t—I would never do that.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jimin says softly.

“I know,” you reply, equally as soft as your eyes dart to the ground, “I hate this, Jimin. I do. But I rather Jiho grow up with two parents who aren’t together than two parents who live together but not even talk.”

Jimin stays silent, and you know that he’s heavily contemplating his next set of words.

You beat him to it with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to unload.”

“Please don’t apologise,” he says, “I just … have you tried speaking to Jin?”

You scoff bitterly at the suggestion, and you know that you shouldn’t be taking it out on Jimin, who’s both Jin’s assistant and your close friend—but the nudge to recall the times you’ve tried, tried so hard to patch things up by planning mini-dates that he rain checked more than enough times for you to want to try again—only leaves you feeling sour.

“He clearly doesn’t mind if he says he’ll get back to me,” you say bitterly.

“Have you considered that maybe he only said that because—”

At that moment, your intercom goes off and you briefly hear Taehyung’s static voice filter through the speaker.

“Hold on, Jimin,” you rush as you put your hand to the speaker to lean forward to press the intercom. “Tae?”

“You have an appointment,” he says slowly, and your eyebrows furrow at his odd tone.

“I do?” You say with a puzzled expression, “I don’t remember scheduling an appointment—”

“Well, this isn’t really an appointment,” he laughs tightly.

“Tae,” you frown, “What are you saying?”

“She’s already—”

And at impeccable timing, a rapt knock is delivered to your door as you further scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“Jimin, I need to go. I have a visitor,” you bring the phone back up to your ear as you begin heading towards the door.

“No worries,” he clips, “Take care, okay?” He says softly.

You mumble a word of gratitude before you’re hanging up, hand already reaching out to turn to the knob to greet your guest.

You’re still confused before you come face-to-face with them, but the moment the door opens as you plaster a smile to greet your guest—your grin immediately freezes as you spot the one person that you surely didn’t expect to visit your workplace on a weekend, let alone at all.

“E-Eomeonim,” you stutter, eyes briefing landing on Taehyung’s apologetic expression behind your guest's elegant posture.

“Myeoneuri,” she immediately beams, leaning forward to embrace you into a hug that you’re still too stunned to properly returned, and it’s not until she pulls back with furrowed brows that you return the gesture, still frozen in shock as you lean your head against her shoulder.

“What brings you here?” You ask, forcing a smile at the sudden grant of her presence as you shut the door behind you, immediately guiding her towards the empty couch as you head towards your cupboards to bring out the glasses for drinks.

“Ah,” she laughs, gently and polished as ever as you keep your head-trained over your shoulder to engage in eye contact as you pour her some water, “Can’t I visit my daughter-in-law?”

The term doesn’t fall on deaf ears and you force yourself to laugh, even if you know that the term wouldn’t be applicable for much longer. You feel like a fraud, inviting her into your office and offering her water as if you weren’t over at her son’s office a week ago with papers that would immediately terminate any relationship you had with him—or her. Legally, at least.

She was still your son's grandmother and overall, a lovely person.

You grew up with her right next to your house, being the second mother in your life especially when she used to house you on nights where your parents were out of town as you integrated with her two sons and their antics. She cooked for you and treated you like you were her own daughter. Those things didn’t go away just because you were divorcing Jin.

“Of course,” you smile softly as you pass her a glass with two hands, “It’s nice to see you.”

She chuckles politely before taking a sip and setting the glass onto the table, eyes travelling around your office as she takes in your interior.

She’s been here on a few occasions, but they’ve been sprawled out over the years so there have definitely been some changes from when she last came. She doesn’t visit often—to your office, at least—she never had a reason to. So it’s all the more startling and nerve-wracking when she appeared today, conveniently after you proposed a divorce she’s yet to know about.

“I was thinking about you,” she says softly, peering up through her lashes as you gulp, fingers shaking ever so slightly when you take a sip of your drink yourself.

“You’re always free to visit, eomeonim,” you return politely, bowing your head.

She scoffs playfully, waving you off as she leans backwards into your plush couch.

“Don’t be so stiff with me, ____,” she teases, “I’ve changed your diapers.”

You flush at the reminder, and it’s both in fondness and in relative hurt because your family and hers were tight-knit from the very beginning. Your mother and she were best friends even before the two of you were born, and it’s only natural that their children ended up becoming friends. It was always a running joke that they’d hope you and Jin would fall in love and marry—and when it happened, the both of them were ecstatic.

It wasn’t as if they planned it, but fate worked out funnily sometimes. Even when you dated other people in the midst of unsure feelings in high school, you always found yourself returning to Jin. Whether it be in the form of comfort, or a laugh, or just a shoulder to lean on—you always found yourself on the front of his porch, eagerly waiting for another moment with him.

“I know,” you sigh with a small smile, “It’s crazy how long it’s been.”

“Thirty-two years,” she reminds.

You exhale, remember that you were in fact thirty-two this year. The thought that settles is one that is intrusive and annoying, purely because you couldn’t go a moment without remembering the divorce. Your age is another bitter reminder that you’ve really hit the mark with it, essentially starting over when you and Jin promised each other forever.

You take another sip to keep your tears behind.

“Anyway,” she continues as she rests her eyes on you. Her gaze is concerned and you’re stuttering, wondering if you were that obvious—if your face held all your emotions or if she was just that observant. When she speaks, you brace yourself for the worst. “I’ve been trying to contact that son of mine but he keeps sending me to his darned assistant.”

You relax ever so slightly as your lips twitch in a smile.

“Jiminie?” You ask amusedly.

“When he’s getting in the way of talking to my son, he’s a darned assistant,” she huffs, crossing her arms across her chest as you laugh.

“Even now, they’re inseparable,” you comment mindlessly, remembering all the times they used to get into trouble together in high school.

“For the wrong reasons,” she sighs, “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

You raise a brow, “Oh?”

“Seokjung’s planning on proposing,” she informs with an excited grin as your eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” you breath, equally as pleased to hear the news, “Finally? I’m so happy for him and Ah-reum.”

Your mother-in-law sighs wistfully as she smiles tenderly at you, reaching a hand out to squeeze yours as her eyes turn solemn.

“I am too,” she says softly, “My two son’s—Gosh.”

Your hand stiffens under her touch, but you don’t make an effort to correct her. She looks far too happy and emotional at the thought itself that you don’t have the heart to ruin that dream for her. You swallow the lump in your throat and the visual of the divorce papers that plague your mind as you offer a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, “I’m really happy for Seokjung.”

She nods, smiling at you before squeezing your hand again.

“I wanted to let you know myself,” she says, “I was meant to tell Jin but clearly, he’s caught up in whatever work he has,” she rolls her eyes before shooting you a pointed stare. “Make sure you make time for each other, even if he’s busy. That boy always drowns himself in work.”

Your face falls for a split second, but you immediately correct it when you realise the look of concern that marks her face.

You know her comment was made in good faith, she had no idea of your impending divorce … did she? But despite her voice mulling slightly under a whisper, you find that your heart betrays your blank face when it clenches. You should’ve made time for each other. Even if he was busy. You tried—and you failed.

“O-Of course,” you say, squeezing her hand in return.

“Make sure that the three of you spend time together,” she says softly, and you’re terrified that she knows when she mentions your son. “A relationship requires constant effort and dedication.”

“Of course,” you swallow, “I will.”

You hate yourself for lying to her, but you hope that she knows that you tried. That you really tried to pick up whatever that was lost—but some things would inevitably remain shattered.

“Tell Jin to take it easy,” she murmurs, “I worry for him sometimes.”

You nod your head mutely, agreeing silently.

“I’m”—she chokes, suddenly teary as your eyes widen in alarm—“I’m really glad that you have each other.”

It’s another blow that you receive, but force yourself to smile through.

“Eomeonim …” you say quietly, the guilt nabbing away at your heart.

She waves you off, laughing softly before she’s swabbing gently under her eyes to rid of the tears. And as always, she remains stunning as ever—the stark features of Jin apparent on her face, and the resemblance only makes your heart clench even further.

“Your mother and I would always joke about having our kids get married,” she reminisces as you smile tightly at her. “We never thought it would actually happen—but you and Jin …” she trails off with a fond smile, “It made sense. Like it was always meant to happen.”

You can’t take it anymore, but you weren’t allowed to pick your battles this time. You swallow the lump in your throat and hold her hand a little tighter as if an apology was worthy enough to be traced into the wrinkles of her palm. For now, this was all you could offer.

“Thank you, eomeonim,” you whisper, and it’s more than just the words she’s said, but how she’s treated you up until now. An apology also rests on your tongue, but that’s for a later date. When you and Jin no longer share the title of married.

“Don’t thank me,” she scoffs, “Thank you for making Jin’s life brighter. For bringing Jiho into this world.”

You swallow.

“Of course,” you smile, “He’s made mine too.”

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“You’re here,” Jimin blinks, opening the door to let you in as you give him a tight smile.

“I wish I wasn’t,” you mutter under your breath as the two of you walk side-by-side down a familiar hall.

“Listen—” he begins but you cut him off, already too tired to engage with him attempting to convince you otherwise on the divorce.

“I really can’t do this right now, Jimin,” you say quietly and he looks at you with an apologetic look that you ignore to save your heart from more tears. “I’m only here because Jin isn’t answering his mother’s damn calls.”

“He’s in the middle of an important business deal,” Jimin says weakly.

“When is he not?” You roll your eyes as you huff, feet clacking against the marble as you turn into a familiar corridor where your eyes rest on the plague with the name of your husband, a name that you’ve welcomed into your life and in your son's name—a name that you’ve grown up with. You push aside the ache in your heart as you reach towards the door to knock. “Listen, I know you’re his best friend and his assistant but … tell him to remember that his job isn’t the only important thing in his life, yeah?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything but waits with you, and you briefly hear the shuffling of feet from the other end. You can tell Jimin wants to say something with the way that he’s impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and you don’t placate him like you usually do because you know that you weren’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.

“Jin’s—”

The door swings open, and it isn’t Jin that you see. It’s—

“Isa,” you smile tightly.

“____,” she exclaims, immediately trotting over in her heels as she towers over you, arms wrapping you into a hug that you don’t expect. When she pulls away, you see her bright teeth in between her red lips. “You’re glowing! Are you pregnant?”

You shoot her a blank look, and you feel Jimin’s eyes widen.

“I’m not,” you say dryly.

“Oh,” she blinks, “Could’ve sworn you were,” she says off-handedly before she moves out the way, only for Jin to appear behind her with a vacant expression on his face, eyes immediately falling onto your unimpressed figure.

“____?” He furrows his eyebrows, “What are you doing here?”

You push past Isa, who you briefly see from the corner of your eye, press two rather friendly kisses onto your husband—well, soon to be ex-husbands—cheeks. She’s always done that, claiming that it was from her French roots even if you knew deep down that she had the hots for her husband. You don’t want to know why she’s here, appropriately right when you and Jin were in the middle of a divorce. Unless she’s representing him as his lawyer, you didn’t want to humour the thought.

“Your mother says you aren’t answering her,” you don’t spare him another glance, or Jimin, who is all but offering you a timid smile right before he shuts the door to the office, leaving you and Jin alone.

“I’ve been busy,” he replies.

“You couldn’t even just send a damn text to your own mother?” you ask irritatedly as you plop into a seat in front of his desk.

“I had Jimin do it,” he says with a frown.

You roll your eyes, bitter that you had to be here—bitter about the divorce—bitter about gorgeous Isa who just left his office. You were bitter about everything, and now you were here, with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Really, Jin,” you deadpan, “You couldn’t even spare two seconds to let your mom know that you were—I don’t know—alive?”

He sighs as if you were pointing out irrational facts and not attempting to get him to do things himself for once. To maintain relationships with people without a damn middleman. You were a victim once, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let his mom suffer the same painful fate as you did.

“It’s been hectic at the office,” he says curtly, “I did eventually get back to her.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “After she visited me at my office.”

“She visited you?” he furrows his brows.

You roll your eyes, “It doesn’t matter. She told me that your brother is planning on proposing and she’s expecting us to be there at the engagement party.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I don’t think I can make it.”

You still.

“What?”

“The investors planned for a meeting that same week and I—”

“He’s your brother,” you splutter in disbelief, rage slowly assimilating in your blood when Jin shoots you with another blank look that you’ve grown to resent, especially recently.

“I can’t do anything about the investors, ____,” he frowns.

“You’re the CEO!” you balk, “You call the shots. You literally make the rules. He’s getting engaged and you can’t even try to make it?”

His brows turn downwards at your harsh tone, but you were unbothered. The disbelief that marks your face is reflective of how your heart slowly burns in anger, the way that your fists clench by your side. Even now, as you attempt to knock some sense of rationality into Jin—you find yourself exhausted. It’s because—this—is familiar. It’s the same routine you found yourself fighting against, now only applied to his direct family. If you weren’t considered that.

“They’re flying in from the States,” he says pointedly.

“And that matters more than your brother because?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “Don’t be fucking selfish, Seokjin.”

You don’t think you’ve referred to him as his full name in years. Even before the two of you dated. You always called him Jin because it was more intimate that way. Only business associates that he was professional with called him Seokjin. It was an unspoken rule that Seokjin was the persona he adapted with people that he needed on his side, not people he wanted by his side.

You’re too busy seething to see the way his face drops ever so slightly, but he’s quick to correct himself when he purses his lips at you.

“I’m at crossroads, ____,” he snaps, “On one hand, it’s my brother who I’m going to disappoint, or—it’s the ten investors that are eager on investing in this company. I can’t win—and right now, I need them on my side.”

“I can’t believe that you actually need to choose who’s more important right now,” you laugh humourlessly, eyes meeting his for a split second as you frown. “It’s your family, Seokjin. It’ll always be your family. You choose your family—you—you choose the people you love.”

Your words are venomous and purposeful when you spit at him, immediately pushing yourself off the seat. Your words refer to more than his brother, or his mother. It’s personal—and it hurts. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you don’t think he’d care anyway.

“Wait,” he sighs, following you until he’s at your door, hand blocking you from leaving, “I …”

You turn around, eyes fluttering shut as you even out your breathing. When you open them, it’s intuitive for you to believe that you were able to read him, especially after a decade of being together—but you can’t. Your eyes are blurred with more than just your fatigue, but it’s disappointment too.

“What?” you sigh, “I don’t—I don’t care what you do Seokjin. But just know that when you’re closing whatever damned business deal you have for profits—your family is missing you.”

You turn to leave, not expecting him to do anything further than where you’ve left it at—but his hand reaches for your shoulder to stop you, your body tensing at his touch that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll,” he begins, nibbling on his lip when you raise a brow at him. It’s the most you’ve gotten out from him in a long time, but it’s not enough for you to read what the hell is going on in his mind. “I’ll be there.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it happen.”

You go to push his hand off but his grip remains firm on your shoulder as he furrows his brows at you.

“We’ll go together,” he says.

You blink.

“I can go there myself,” you clip back curtly.

“They don’t know,” he blinks, “Right?”

He’s talking about the divorce.

Your body stills under his grip as you scowl.

“Of course they don’t,” you snap, “I won’t do that to your mom,” you say softly, “Not now.”

He doesn’t ask you to elaborate, even when your eyes turn sad as they dart to the floor.

“Then we’ll go together,” he says simply, “It’s easier that way.”

You don’t argue anymore because your mind just recalls the conversation you shared with his mother, the woman who’s simultaneously raised you along with your own mother. The woman you’ve shared fond memories with, and the woman whose heart you were inevitably going to break with the news of the divorce.

“Fine,” you sigh, finally shrugging off his hand as you turn towards the door to finally leave.

The door opens, and you’re already halfway out when his voice interrupts you.

“Your dress,” he says softly.

You stop, turning your head slowly as you raise a brow.

“… my dress?” You look down at your attire and you note that it’s a simple knee-length dress that you’ve had for years. It was strapless, but casual enough for you to wear on a daily basis—and definitely nothing noteworthy about it.

“You wore it during our honeymoon,” he states as your body locks at the mention of the memory.

You don’t even remember if you did—so you can’t confirm whether or not he was pulling your leg. But the look that Jin sends you is … you can’t quite put a word to it but it looks soft. Gentle, almost fond. But it goes as quick as it comes before he’s offering you a small smile.

“I don’t remember,” you say bluntly.

His face remains blank, even if there’s a slight drop at his lips.

“Well,” he clears his throat before he steps out of the way to make space for your departure, “You look beautiful.”

The compliment steals your breath away, not because he’s never said it before but because it’s unexpected. It’s unexpected because you were divorcing him, and you haven’t heard those words leave his lips in a long time—directed to you, at least. You’re breathless because your heart is ramming against your chest, and there’s a painful feeling lingering.

You also remember the woman that’s left his office. You know it’s irrational for you to feel this way when you were the one that suggested the divorce. But it’s only proof at his options, especially when he was … he was him.

It’s hope—but you’re not an idiot to allow yourself to burn twice.

“I,” you croak, shaking your head as you manage a tight nod, “Thank you.”

When you leave, you have to force your tears back—without sparing another glance at Jin. When Jimin passes by you, he knows well enough not to ask.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Have you got everything?” Taehyung asks, helping you with the bag filled with Jiho’s things as you snort at his overeagerness of getting you out of the office.

“Yes, Tae, I have,” you say with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you actually cared about my well-being.”

He gasps with a faux sense of offence as he places a hand on his chest, shooting you a look that you roll your eyes at.

“Of course I do!” He pouts, “My boss is getting the break she deserves,” he says before peering down to Jiho, who’s tiredly dozing off in your arms since it was in the wee hours of the morning, “But I’ll definitely miss this one.”

He pokes Jiho softly on the cheek but your son doesn’t even so budge. He’s exhausted, and you were too—but you were more used to staying up late packing last-minute than your son was so you brush his hair gently before placing a soft peck to the crown of his head.

You know Taehyung will miss Jiho, purely because you’ve been at the office more than your home through the past week. You couldn’t bear to return to a space that was void and only had the title of a home when it didn’t feel like it anymore. It was the most difficult explaining to Jiho, who sought his dad’s attention and you couldn’t give it to him. A business trip was the best you got.

“Thank you, by the way,” you smile gratefully at your assistant as the three of you are taken down to the lobby of your office via the lift.

“Don’t,” he says sternly as you giggle softly at his tone, “Thank you for leaving.”

“I knew it,” you narrow your eyes as you stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just happy that I’m gone.”

“It’s four days,” he reminds, “You need a longer break. You’ve been working non-stop.”

You know his jibe is stern despite his light tone, purely because he’s aware of your tendency to ignore your problems by overworking yourself. He’s seen you devote all your energy to reports and analysing data than acknowledge the impending shatter in your heart.

“That’s long enough,” you sigh, “Make sure you—”

“Yes,” he groans as the two of you finally reach the lobby, offering a polite smile toward the receptionist as he returns the gesture. “Did you forget that I’m your assistant? God forbid I’m incompetent.”

You sniff even if you don’t disagree. You didn’t hire him just because he was your friend, but because he’s proven himself over and over again on his capabilities, you needed someone that was lax enough to balance out your perfectionist tendencies but also precise with his work. Taehyung was the perfect mixture of that—so it made sense that he’s stuck with you since you first hired him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you remind as the two of you spot Jin’s car, a sleek range rover fit for the rather long travel. You let out an exhale at the prospect of being in a car with your own husband for the next four hours as you travel out to his family vacation home, but your son needed you—and he needed his dad, so you brace yourself.

“Yes,” he sighs, and you see Jin step out of the car, a t-shirt and sweats combo that you adored him in. You look away.

“Taehyung,” you hear Jin greet your assistant as the two males engage in a rather amicable bro-hug.

“Hey, hyung,” he smiles softly, “How are you?”

You busy yourself with making sure that Jiho’s head doesn’t slip off your shoulders, but you note that your son’s awake this time—sensing the presence of his father as he groggily flutters his eyes open to search for him.

“Could’ve been better,” Jin returns, though not unkindly as his eyes dart towards his son, eyes softening immediately when Jiho calls for him through a mumble.

“Daddy?” He mumbles, immediately shaking out of your grasp as he extends his arms to be held by Jin. You swallow, but you allow Jin to take him from you. He hasn’t seen your son in over a week, and you would never be the person that deprived him from his own blood.

“Jiho,” he whispers, “Tired, bud?”

Your son nods his head, immediately snuggling into the comfort of his father’s chest as you force yourself to look away, distracting your mind as you help Taehyung load your belongings into the boot of Jin’s car.

“Where were you?” Your son asks innocently, “Mama said trip.”

“Yeah,” Jin says breathlessly, eyes meeting yours for a split second as you look away. “Missed you so much.”

“We miss you too,” Jiho pouts, and you don’t correct him when he alludes to you either.

“You okay?” Taehyung whispers, hand clasping your shoulder as you blink away the heat behind your eyelids. It was too early to cry, and you’ve spent the past week crying at random intervals so you were tired of shedding tears.

“I’ll survive,” you smile tightly as Taehyung finally loads the last bag, closing the boot with a button before shuffling back to the curb where Jin continues to cradle your son in his arms.

You’ve known him before you could properly speak, and you intimately recognise the expression on his face. He looks … sad. And it’s the most emotion you’ve seen on his face ever since you approached him with the divorce. You know that the worst part of it all is that Jiho is caught in the crossfire, and what hurts the most is that you didn’t want him to be.

“Thank you,” Jin looks over to Taehyung before he reaches out to give him a semi-awkward hug due to the little boy in his arms. “For taking care of the both of them.”

You almost don’t catch it, but you do despite the hushed tone he takes. Your eyes dart to the ground before you head towards the door to the passenger seat, already too overwhelmed at the break of dawn.

You enter the car, taking a deep breath to even out your breathing and force your tears back. You hated yourself for crying so easily but you knew that it wasn’t just your crybaby tendencies, but it was the pent up emotions that you’ve suppressed for months resurfacing after months of repression. You catch the two men through the side-mirror in a rather intense conversation, though you don’t hear anything of what they’re saying. You know they’re not raising their voices because Jiho finds it peaceful enough to drift off into slumber.

When Taehyung catches your eyes through the side-mirror, he offers you a smile, one that you can’t quite read before he’s patting Jin on the back and giving him one last solemn look.

He’s quick to set Jiho at the backseat, fastening him in the booster seat and placing a soft pillow to support his neck. Your heart both grows fond and tighter when he places a soft kiss on your son’s forehead before carefully shutting the door, quickly entering the driver’s seat as he fastens himself in.

“There’s pineapple juice and gummies, by the way,” Jin breaks the silence as your eyes snap to his figure.

“Oh.”

“I know you don’t like travelling without them,” he mentions while he simultaneously setting up the GPS.

“I—thank you,” you reply softly, eyes dropping to the middle console, and in fact, spotting your favourite brand of pineapple juice and gummies sitting comfortably, waiting for your consumption.

You swallow, deciding against digging in immediately.

“My phone’s already connected to the Bluetooth so you can play any song,” he tells you, “The password’s the same.”

Your breath hitches. His password, the one he’s kept since college even if you’ve berated him for it on multiple occasions because of how predictable it was. Your anniversary date, the day when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. Even after you got married, he never changed it to your wedding anniversary date because he didn’t need to. He was that sentimental, proposing to you on the same day as when he first asked you out.

God, what was he doing to your heart?

You don’t say anything when you reach for his phone, and it’s like the universe is dead-set on reminding you of all the memories you shared with him when you spot the picture at the back of his clear phone case.

A polaroid of the both of you on your wedding night, face smushed with cake as the two of you double over in laughter.

Don’t cry, you tell yourself.

You type in the password when Jin finally ignites the engine, pulling out of the lobby as you finally start your four-hour journey. When you scroll through his phone to find the music app, you’re also surprised to see a familiar playlist.

“You still listen to it?” you find yourself asking, despite your heart clenching again.

Jin looks over his shoulder to catch a glance at his phone that was in your hands to see what you were talking about before he nods.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don’t really listen to anything else.”

It’s the playlist the two of you made when you were rather drunk one night during your marriage. A random playlist filled with songs that didn’t really go well together, from upbeat tracks to mellow ballads that have your heart weeping and to R&B songs that set the mood.

It’s the millionth time that you swallow your tears, and you know it’s not going to be the last. It’s because it’s been less than twenty minutes back in close vicinity with Jin when you’re reminded that your lives are both so intertwined with one another that every aspect of his and your lives have remainders of your essences. Whether it be the scarf you precariously spotted at the back of the seat you remember leaving, or whether it was the keychain that dangles from his rearview mirror—or the damn playlist.

It was everything, and it hurt that you had to let it go.

You play a song that’s in the middle. Safe. A quiet tune that filters through the speakers as you turn the volume lower so that it wouldn’t startle your son awake.

“If you get tired halfway just let me know and I can take over,” you inform him.

You’re surprised to hear Jin scoff with a shake of his head, though when you turn to look at him, there’s a small smile on his face.

“You’re a terrible driver, so no,” he laughs.

You gasp, squinting your eyes at him.

You’ve gotten … better. Though your better was still debatably worse than the average person, it was progress nevertheless!

“I won’t get us killed,” you hiss at him, pouting as you cross your arms across your chest, “Besides, I don’t trust myself to drive if you’re not around, anyway.”

You don’t realise what you said, or the implications behind it. But you think Jin does when he flicks his eyes over to you, staring softly as you blatantly miss it to continue pouting while you stare forward, grumbling about being a better driver as he can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Don’t worry,” he says so quietly that you almost miss it, “Get some rest. I’ll drive us.”

You open your mouth to argue but the look he gives you makes you clamp your mouth shut in defeat. In all the times you’ve travelled by car with Jin, you don’t think you’ve ever driven the both of you, or even when Jiho became an addition to the family, because Jin was always so insistent on doing the heavy loaded things.

It was something that both annoyed you, but you were grateful for. You knew when Jin offered to do stereotypically husband things such as carrying the groceries, building furniture or driving you everywhere—it never came from a place where he believed you couldn’t do it. He knew you could because whenever he wasn’t around you did those things yourself, and dare you say, even better than him (with the exception of the driving). It was because he wanted to do these things for you, to have you worry about nothing but just yourself, him and Jiho.

The thoughts plague your mind, and suddenly everything is bitter again. You almost deluded yourself into thinking that things were normal and this was a normal family trip. But it wasn’t. Because you were inevitably going to get divorced, once he signed those papers.

“Hey, Jin?” you call.

He hums noncommittally as you fiddle with your fingers.

“When are you going to sign the papers?”

The question stills in the tense air, and you don’t catch the way his shoulders lock into position at your question.

“Soon,” he says curtly.

You nod your head slowly, eyes drifting out the window as you keep your sigh to yourself.

Yeah, it’d be over soon.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“I’m literally following the GPS,” he says dryly.

“Then the GPS is wrong,” you snap, “The service is horrible here—god—make a left.”

“I’m not going to be listening to a person who gets mixed up with East and West,” he deadpans.

“That was like—ages ago! I’ve changed!”

“Not taking the chance,” he snorts, going against your very orders of turning left as he makes a right, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder as you glare at him.

“Pull over, I’m driving because I clearly don’t remember taking this road the last time.”

“Roads change, ____,” he groans, “Infrastructure and public goods! It’s government-funded so our tax money damn well better be used for good.”

“Still,” you say petulantly, “You’ve been driving the entire time—it’s time to switch.”

“I never agreed to that,” he says pointedly as you hear your son humming along to the song, giggling every once in a while when you’d get particularly frustrated with Jin.

“You’re going to cramp,” you say.

“I won’t,” he sighs before looking over to you, then into your lap where the gummies lay. “How about you feed me instead?”

You still at the suggestion, the rather intimate one in fact. Though you’ve done this a million times before, bickering during road trips and feeding him—it feels different now. But you know your son is watching, even if he doesn’t understand the severity of the situation, and you didn’t want to throw him off.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you grumble before pouring out some gummies into your hand and shoving it towards him.

His eyes briefly cast downwards before ignoring your hand, eyes returning to the road as you gawk at his blatant dismissal.

“Um, hello?” you say in disbelief, “Gummies?”

You wiggle your hand in front of his face but he’s still ignoring you, a somewhat smug expression on his face as you scowl even further.

“Do you want gummies or not?” You snap.

“I do,” he shrugs, “I asked you to feed me, didn’t I?”

You give him a bland look.

“They’re literally right there.”

“You know what feeding means, right?” he sighs dramatically, “You do that with Jiho. You know—feeding someone. Putting food in their mouth.”

“I’ll put something in your mouth all right,” you grit as he grins, “My fist.”

“Please,” he whines as you roll your eyes, “My hands are on the steering wheel. You’re always telling me to keep two hands on the wheel yet you’re making me feed myself?” He pouts and you can’t believe this is a thirty-five-year-old man that’s speaking. “That hardly seems—”

You’ve had enough of his complaints as you begrudgingly smack your hand towards his mouth, effectively feeding him a gummy as he nearly chokes while his eyes bulge out of his sockets.

“Ow!—what the f—?” you glare at him at his near slip up as he clears his throat, “That hurt.”

“Oh, really,” you hum blandly, “Would you like another?” You smile plastically at him as he pouts.

“Yes please, but spare my lips,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes but listen to him anyway. You didn’t want to startle him into swerving off the road so you feed him the next gummy gentler. But you’ve underestimated Jin’s ability to be exasperating as he ends up biting your finger in retaliation for your previous stunt.

“Ow!” you hiss, glaring at him as you go to flick his forehead.

All he does is snicker, even if he does manage to dodge your finger.

“Revenge,” he says childishly, sticking a tongue out at you.

“You’re so annoying,” you seethe.

“You love it,” he smiles over his shoulder—and you freeze.

He realises what he’s said only when he spots your frozen expression. He’s about to rectify the mistake and dissipate the tension that arose, but your son is intercepting before Jin can make the shot.

“Love!” he giggles, innocent and childlike, “Love mama and daddy.”

Your eyes filter to the back as you see your son giggling, cheeks bulged as he smiles widely at you. For a split second, you’re reminded of Jin when he was a toddler, with puffy cheeks and a cheeky grin as your eyes soften at him. He really did look like Jin, much to your initial disappointment when he looked more like Jin’s child than your own. Even if your parents and in-laws said that Jiho had your eyes.

“Love you, bubs,” you coo, reaching out to squeeze his chubby fingers as he smiles wider.

“Love you,” Jin replies as well, eyes soft when he catches his son’s expression through the rearview mirror.

“Say it!” he babbles, huffing as you raise a brow.

“Love you, Jiho—”

“No no no,” he harrumphs, cutely folding his arms across his chest as you attempt to figure out what his toddler mind was getting at. “Each other—mama and daddy.”

You get it soon enough, and your expression drops completely as you feel the anxiety rise in your throat.

You were getting a divorce. Your son had no idea. He asked you to declare your love to Jin. Why did you feel oddly targeted right now, by a four-year-old, no less!

“Jiho—” you laugh, attempting to distract him but your son is persistent.

“Mama,” he scolds with a frown and you curse yourself for giving him the one trait of your own that you couldn’t bear to deal with yourself, “Say.”

You glance over to Jin who’s already giving you a passing look, a rather earnest expression marring his face as you clear your throat. Suddenly, everything’s more intense, and all you can see is his face. There was a time where the two of you abused your I love you’s that it was the first thing you heard in the morning and the last thing you heard at night. So why was it so difficult now? Why was it difficult to tell a little white lie in front of your son?

Perhaps it’s because the love never disappeared, from your end at least. And maybe that’s why all of this is all the more painful.

Before your son can throw a tantrum at your silence, Jin is reaching over the console to grasp your hand in his in a familiar manner as he brings your knuckle up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it.

When your head turns to him with your eyes wide in shock, he doesn’t break eye contact even as you’re about to yell at him for not looking at the road.

“Love you,” he whispers, and you don’t know if Jiho had even heard it with how soft he’s said it, but you think he does because he stops whining.

All you can do is stare at him, especially at how earnestly the confession leaves his lips. But you remember that it’s fruitless to keep hope, to have your heart flutter at his low voice—because the divorce papers existed, and it’s the first time in a while that you’ve heard it, and it was only because your son demanded so.

You pull your hand away, albeit roughly as your eyes dart out the window to distract yourself, to suck up the tears again.

You’re looking away quick enough that you don’t catch the crestfallen expression on Jin’s face.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Jiho-yah,” Jin’s mother immediately runs up to your son rather than greet you or Jin as your son excitedly receives the hug, squeezing into his grandmother’s arms as he lifts him up.

“Halmeoni,” he giggles, “Miss you!”

Your face softens as you see the way Jin’s mother presses wet smooches on both of your son’s cheeks, accompanied slowly by your father-in-law, who’s far more mellowed down than his wife, as he greets you with a wide grin.

“Is this a way to greet your father-in-law?” He jokes when you simply smile at him as you roll your eyes at his light jibe.

“Come here,” you sigh playfully, opening your arms to embrace him as you feel the comfort of a familiar father figure.

“Yes, let’s ignore your actual son, right?” Jin snorts, huffing as he lugs your belongings onto the porch.

His mother’s ears perk up as she shoots him a stern glare that still doesn’t fail to have him cowering. Mother’s really are terrifying when they wanted to be.

“At least she responds to messages,” his mother narrows her eyes at him as Jin smiles meekly in response, probably regretting his words, “I know you’re grown but I’m still your mother—I’ll take you out of that damned company and put you under house arrest."

“Mom,” he exasperates, ears flushed as you snicker at him.

“House arrest?” Jiho repeats, confused.

You pick him up before pressing a kiss in between his brows to soothe the furrow.

“Daddy’s being dumb,” you explain.

“Gang up on me, all right,” Jin snorts, already heading towards the door to bring your stuff in.

His father pats him on the back before shooting him a pointed look.

“A word of advice son,” he murmurs with a low voice, “you’re never right. Your wife is.”

Jin sighs, and you can’t help the amused grin that makes its way onto your face. Even if he had referred to you as his wife—and you knew that it wouldn’t be the case for long, it feels nice to be with them again, even if your utopia would eventually get destroyed.

“The guest room on the second floor is for the kids,” his mother informs, “Jin’s cousins are bringing their children along as well so Jiho won’t be alone.”

You smile gratefully towards her as you guide Jiho towards the home, while the rest of them follow slowly behind.

When you enter, you’re immediately greeted by Jin’s older brother, another familiar figure that you’re grinning widely at as he enthusiastically extends his arms that you immediately jump into.

Jiho’s following close by, tiny figure wrapping around his uncle’s legs as Seokjung picks the little one up with ease.

“Ah, my favourite sister,” he coos playfully, pinching your cheek as you roll your eyes.

“Your only sister,” you correct pointedly.

He’s always referred to you as his sister, even before you married Jin—purely because he was there for you like an older brother was. Since he was two years older than Jin, meaning he was five years older than you, he always looked out for you and took care of you when you were children—and you were immensely grateful for that.

“Semantics,” he waves you off before pressing a kiss to Jiho’s cheek, “Missed you, buddy.”

“You too samchon,” Jiho quips back cheerfully, “Noona?”

He’s referring to Ah-reum, and Seokjung only grins wider.

“She’s coming in two days,” he informs in a hushed whisper, “I’m going to propose to her.”

Jiho tilts his head to the side cutely in confusion.

“Pro-propose?” He mumbles as you laugh softly, patting his head in fondness.

“I want to marry noona,” he whispers with a wink.

“Like—mama? Daddy?” he gasps.

“Like mama and daddy,” Seokjung nods as you swallow.

You look away, feeling like a fraud, especially when at that very moment, Jin brushes up against you with a gentle hand to the small of your back that you flinch at. The look he sends you is concerned, but you know it’s because of what his brother had said. Of course, it was, it couldn’t be anything else.

“Come Jiho,” you say softly, “Let’s get you into your room, yeah?”

He nods eagerly before you’re shooting Seokjung an apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he calls right as you turn, Jin close by your side. “Are you … are you okay?”

The question makes you freeze for a moment as you attempt to school your face and power through the grimace that almost appears.

“Of course,” you clip, “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to,” you say through a tight smile before squeezing his shoulder before you’re turning on your heel, face immediately dropping.

Jin almost chases after you, but he decides against it when you distract yourself by fiddling with the hem of your son’s pants. It was a habit of yours, finding solace in your son because he’d never do you or anyone wrong, though you could’ve been biased because you played a part in creating him and pushing him out of your vagina.

He wouldn’t do you wrong, you think as he mumbles about marriage under his breath. You really wished he wasn’t so curious.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“I forgot how big your family was,” you say a little breathlessly as you escape the fifth aunt of the hour asking about your life and work. That was fine, small talk was okay. Not asking when baby number two was coming along when you were divorcing their precious nephew.

“Sorry,” Jin winces, moving over so that you could plop onto the rattan chair, “it gets bigger every year because of the kids.”

You know that’s true because, for some reason, Jin’s family was as fertile as a fertility clinic. You were sure that they could single-handedly repopulate the human species if Thanos really did snap half the universe away. It’s also probably the reason why Jin managed to get you pregnant three months into your marriage, four years ago.

“Jiho’s trying to break up an argument between the twins,” you sigh when you tilt your head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of your son helplessly standing in the middle of two older kids as they banter back and forth. Your son was too sweet for his own good, but it was also way too amusing to see his eyebrows furrow as he attempts to get their attention.

“Maybe we should tell our son to not waste his time doing impossible things,” he snorts.

“It’s good character development,” you reason, “It’ll teach him to acknowledge his potential.”

Jin shoots you a dry look before turning his head to the scene where the twins were now tugging at each other’s locks like they were in the tug of war as your son can only watch the scene unfold. You really should tell him that that wasn’t how you resolved conflict, even if their parents humourlessly stand by and allow it to happen.

“I’m not giving our son ammunition for his villain origin story,” he scoffs, “I’m going there—”

“Relax,” you stop him from moving any further with a gentle hand to his bicep out of habit, even if your brain stutters for a split second as you clear your throat, “Your mom’s got him.”

As you’d also like to call her, the heroine of the day, Jin’s mother picks up her grandson before cooing something that you can’t hear from how far you are. You’re thankful when she makes eye contact with you, offering a wink before she’s showing him off to her family members.

The sight makes your heart fond because everyone seemed to love Jiho, you really don’t blame them. You fell in love with Jiho before he was born and you would love him until you didn’t know love anymore. You never knew that being a mother would be this monumental for you, in fact, you never knew if you wanted children anyway.

But when things were … brighter. Jin was the only reason you needed. Then, you wouldn’t have wanted to do this parenting thing with anyone else. The bitter thought of co-parenting plagues your mind and the anxiety of attempting to explain the situation to your son doesn’t ease your nerves at all. Even thinking about telling Jin’s family has you feeling nauseous—you were the real villain. The heartbreaker of it all.

“It’s been a while,” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts as you blink up at him.

“Sorry?”

“It’s been a while since we,” he looks down to his cup before throwing back the last bit of orange juice in it, “Since we had a vacation.”

You snort, “I’d hardly call this a vacation. There are screaming kids and your brother is having ten mental breakdowns a day before the actual proposal.”

“I mean, I guess,” he shrugs, “We just haven’t had the time—to take one. This is nice.”

You don’t know what he’s implying but you know it makes your heart clench at the insinuation. You almost wanted to bitterly add that you tried to make time despite your own busy schedule. It was him that put it off. It was him that didn’t have the time.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, too tired to fight, “It is.”

“Why”—he hesitates for a second as his eyebrows furrow while you raise a brow at the sudden jerk of his tone—“why did you suggest—?”

“Jin?”

Your head turns, and you recognise the voice before you see the approaching figure and you already feel sick to your stomach. Not because you knew what Jin was going to say before he was cut off, but because of the person that comes into your vision. You should’ve seen it coming, really, because this was Seokjung’s engagement party and it wouldn’t make sense if—

“Chahee?” Jin greets in confusion before he’s being pulled into a tight embrace.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she whines, “Weren’t you going to come to say hi?”

Your jaw ticks as you look away from the scene before you.

When there was you and Jin, there was also Chahee and Jin. They’ve never dated, though you knew that if the opportunity presented itself, she’d be the first person up in line anyway. But with every relationship, also came with relationship troubles and unfortunately for you, Chahee was the instigator for most of your relationship insecurities with Jin.

It’s because you weren’t the only person that was a constant in Jin’s life—she was too.

Of course, she’d be here, and of course, she’d still look at Jin with a determination to make him hers. Even if you’re here, face blank as you wait and see if she’d actually acknowledge you this time.

“I,” he swallows, eyes darting to you, fully aware of what her presence implies. But your head is trained to the side, pointedly ignoring it for the sake of your sanity. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

She scoffs as if he’s said something absurd, which in retrospect, he did—because clearly, she’d be here. Where he goes, she’ll try her best to be there.

“Of course, I am!” She chirps, “It’s Seokjung’s big day—and besides, I missed you.”

You nearly roll your eyes to the back of your head and the audacity of this fucking chick. Sure, you were divorcing him, but to everyone else—you were his wife. And you were very much still together, even if it felt like it’s ended months ago.

“It’s good to see you,” he smiles politely, not making much effort to pull away when she rubs at the back of his neck. You’d clock her if you weren’t civilised, but instead, you take a sip of your drink and hope it doesn’t end up in her face.

“You too,” she smiles flirtatiously before she decides to finally acknowledge you. You think it’s a new record. “____, you’re here.”

She sounds much less enthusiastic than before, and you don’t blame her—nor do you plaster a smile on your face. Instead, you tilt the drink up to her and nod your head, giving her a less than a satisfactory greeting. You couldn’t even bother clarifying the obvious because you were Seokjung’s sister-in-law, Jin’s wife; and the mother to the adorable boy who’s currently stealing the show. Silence was a pettier option.

Her fake smile drops when she realises that you weren’t bothered, and you’re glad she doesn’t attempt to be plastic with you anymore when you’re fully aware that she’d sleep with Jin if given the chance.

“What’s up with her?” You hear her mutter to him as you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to leave the two of them alone.

Alarmed, Jin hastily grabs your arm before you can leave, “She’s—uh, not feeling well.”

“I’m feeling—”

“Acting up at a family event?” Chahee scoffs. You would seriously slap her.

“Listen—” you sigh.

“Pregnancy,” Jin blurts as you nearly stumble from how flabbergasted you are, “You know hormones—not easy.”

You would seriously slap him too.

“You’re … pregnant?” she says slowly, jaw slackening as you see her eyes darken.

“Don’t listen—”

“We need to get you indoors,” Jin smiles tightly, “The sun—yeah. Not good for the baby.”

Before you can even get another word in, Jin’s dragging you into the house as you yelp, spotting the last glare that Chahee sends you before she’s downing the alcoholic beverage in one-go and stomping off somewhere.

When you’re settled into a private corner in the kitchen, only then do you yank away your arm from Jin with a menacing glare.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “She was—she’s crazy.”

“And you had to be crazy too?” you ask incredulously, “How the fuck would telling her that I’m pregnant solve anything?”

“It’s to get her to back off!” he hisses.

“If a baby would get her to back off then she would’ve done that when I was pregnant with Jiho,” you say dryly.

“I panicked, okay,” he exasperates.

You scowl.

“Well fix it,” you snap, “We’re getting divorced, Jin. Chahee’s going to run her mouth and if it gets to any of your family members then there’s no way we can break our split to them.”

You sound much more bitter than you’d anticipated, but who would sound neutral or happy when speaking about a divorce? With someone you still cared deeply about, no less. But you’re slightly surprised when you see Jin’s face harden at the reminder.

“Is that what you care about?” he blinks.

You give him a weird look before sighing, turning your back to him as you find yourself a glass to pour some water.

“Jin, it’s due time,” you sigh, “I don’t want to make this harder for your family—”

“For them,” he laughs humourlessly, “You’re thinking about how the divorce is going to be hard for them.”

You blink at his sharp tone.

“… yes?” you say slowly, “We grew up together, Jin. Obviously the divorce would crush them.”

“You”—he blinks—“you’re thinking about them but you didn’t for one second to wonder how I felt?”

You freeze.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” he exhales with a tight chuckle, “You really decided that it was over by yourself, didn’t you?”

You don’t appreciate his tone, nor do you appreciate the accusation. Not when you’ve spent literal months and sleepless nights agonising over your decision while you mulled every possible solution, crying over the demise and when you finally decided to take that step forward. You don’t appreciate it—especially when you did your best.

“You didn’t say anything!” you seethe. “You never say anything! You took the damn papers and flipped through to them like it was one of your business contracts.” “How did you expect me to react?” he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air as his voice raises. “I was caught off-guard!"

You scoff, “Really? That’s your excuse?” You narrow your eyes at him as you jab a finger into his chest. “Don’t give me shit for not considering how you felt when you’ve given me no indication that you gave a shit about this marriage at all.”

“Of course I give a shit about this marriage!” He says in disbelief.

“Do you, Seokjin?” you say bitterly, and the name returns along with the drop in his expression. “You don’t. I don’t know what you feel about anything anymore. It’s stopped being a marriage a long time ago. The divorce would’ve come either way.” You finish in a whisper.

“And you decided that for us?” ye snaps.

“Yes, Seokjin, I did,” you sneer, “I decided for us because we don’t even talk anymore. Every time I try to reach out to you—I took ten steps backwards from where I started and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue feeling like a placeholder in this marriage instead of your wife.”

“You’re not—” his eyes soften as he reaches out to you while you flinch, eyes darting to the ground.

“Don’t,” you whisper harshly, “Don’t you dare comfort me now, Kim Seokjin. Not when it took the actual divorce for you to be apologetic.”

The kitchen is silent, and it’s deafening, especially when the outside chatter filters in through the slips of the divider. You know they can’t see you through the tinted windows, but it’s a stark contrast with how people are outside laughing while your marriage falls apart under the same roof.

“So that’s it?” he says softly, “Ten years of dating and four years of marriage?”

“Don’t you dare,” you repeat again, weaker, “I wanted this to work out more than anyone else.”

“Then why aren’t you fighting,” he hisses, stepping closer as he attempts to get you to look at him.

You can’t.

“I’ve been fighting,” you return vehemently, though your resolve is weak at best. “I’ve been fighting on my own for the past four months to save this marriage and you—you just …” your eyes flutter shut as you feel the first tear fall. You don’t want to look at him. “You didn’t fight, Seokjin. You were the one that did this to us.”

“____,” he calls your name.

You step away, furiously swiping under your eyes as you attempt to keep the last few bits of your tears back.

“No more burdens, Seokjin,” you smile sadly, “Stop making this harder than it has to be and sign the papers.”

“I—”

“You should go look for Chahee,” you say softly, and you know your words are purposeful with its double-meaning.

You’re already excusing yourself to your room, the godforsaken room you were forced to share with Jin before you catch the way his face drops completely.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

It’s been radio silent between you and Jin ever since your conversation from yesterday, and you’re both thankful and frustrated. It’s proven difficult to maintain an amicable distance from him when you were meant to be in love and married, along with your son who’s none the wiser.

Seokjung’s nervously pacing back and forth in the living room, but it’s not because of how large his family is—or that he has an audience to please with his grand show. It’s the prospect of proposing to Ah-reum, even if he was madly in love with her.

Right now, he’s not listening to anyone, even his own mother, the same person that would play the level-headed role in situations like these. It’s almost concerning when he mutters incoherencies under his breath, a slip-of the tongue that revealed his fear and desire to leave.

Your eyes widen as you walk towards the anxious man, leaving Jiho with your father-in-law who only smiles at you gratefully.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he nearly stumbles from being startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” he exhales, rubbing a hand across his face before his eyes are nervously darting towards the door where Ah-reum could enter at any moment, according to his cousin, “God—I’m going to puke."

“You’re okay,” you reassure him gently, eyes searching for his as he nearly doubles over in anxiety, “You’re good.”

“Am I?” he chokes, “God, I haven’t felt this nervous ever since I had to submit my Master’s thesis.”

You snort, even if you pat his back affectionately.

“It’s normal to feel nervous,” you promise.

“Is it?” he says softly, “I love her—I do. But … but why does this feel so scary?”

You give him a small smile while he peers up at you with panicked eyes. Despite him being relatively older than you were, he looked very much like his younger self right now. Nerves and wide-eyes as he contemplates a decision that would very much change the course of his life.

“It’s because you love her you’re scared,” you explain, “Change will always feel scary, and proposing to Ah-reum is a huge change in your life. Nothing will make this easier, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. Once you overcome that initial barrier, you’re going to thank yourself for taking that leap of faith.”

He groans, cradling his face into his hands as your eyes widen alarm, afraid if you said the wrong thing.

“You know,” he says suddenly, eyes darting up, “It’s a little reassuring to know that Jin went through this before I did.”

At the mention of his brother, your hand tenses on his shoulder—but you don’t think he notices. Or at least you hope he doesn’t.

“Way to throw your brother under the bus,” you chuckle.

“No, really,” he snorts, shaking his head fondly as if he was recalling those days. “You know, at first I thought it was too early for him to be proposing.”

Your eyes widen at the new set of information.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “Don’t tell him I told you that, though. He’d kill me,” he says in a low whisper as you laugh, a little sadly purely because he didn’t have to worry about that. You weren’t even talking to Jin. “I knew the two of you were endgame—but getting married? That’s next-level commitment.”

“I mean,” you say bashfully, eyes darting to the ground.

“But now, looking back …” he trails off wistfully, “It made sense.”

He’s the second person who’s told you that within the span of the past week and you’re left more conflicted than ever. His words came during a time where you were contemplating on splitting up with Jin, so you have no idea what to feel, especially when you’ve convinced yourself that the divorce was the decision that made sense.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” you mumble.

Seokjung snorts, “Because it’s true. You ground each other, you know?” He murmurs with a smile, “I mean more so you to him,” he finishes as you giggle at his hushed whisper.

“I’m clearly the more level-headed one,” you say jokingly with a small smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily as the two of you share a laugh. “Early or late, the two of you are meant for each other.”

You ignore the way your heart pangs, the reminder that you once thought that was the case too until reality hit you hard.

“Maybe we did get married too early,” you mention quietly.

Seokjung raises a brow at your statement, and you realise the little slip-up too late as you purse your lips in a moment of panic.

“Are the two of you okay?” he asks with a concerned gaze, taking your hand into his.

You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes.

“Don’t worry about us,” you tell him, “It’s your day.”

He frowns.

“Yeah, but you’re my sister and he’s my—”

“I’m fine,” you say curtly, realising your tone as his face drops before you sigh. “I—I am, really. Please don’t worry about us, okay? You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to.”

You nudge him on the shoulder to cock your head towards the door where you see his aunt frantically waving her arms, indicating that Ah-reum was near, and all retort that was about to leave his lips dies on his tongue as his eyes widen while he vigorously pats down his pants to search for the ring.

“God—fuck, shit godamnit,” he curses, fumbling ever so slightly as you giggle, squeezing his shoulder one last time before you’re shooting him a thumbs up along with a cheeky grin.

Good luck, you mouth—but he doesn’t see it.

The door opens and Ah-reum enters; Seokjung cries before he can get the words out but she knows. She knows because they’re in love.

You suppose love makes you know things. You look away because you’re starting to cry too, and when you do—you search for Jin on instinct, but he’s already looking at you.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Did daddy cry when proposing to mama?” Jiho asks Jin innocently when you’re close enough to catch it.

“No,” Jin says honestly, brushing a stray hair away from his face as Jiho snuggles into his chest. His sigh is clear as day. “Was too happy to cry."

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“Hey,” you whisper, nudging Jin with your knuckles as he stirs in his sleep, groggily fluttering his eyes open as you shoot him an apologetic smile.

“____?”

“Your back,” you say quietly, “Sleep on the bed.”

“But—”

“I’m not sleeping yet,” you say before your eyes are darting to anywhere but the face you yearn to hold. “Just … please. It’d make me feel a lot better if you were sleeping on your own bed than on this couch.”

He doesn’t argue with you, likely too exhausted from the events of the day to find it in him to challenge you like usual. You’re thankful for the sense of normalcy, even if you’re still tiptoeing around him. Even if the remnants of your conversation is the reason why you’ve encountered yet another sleepless night.

You don’t tell him this because it’s been months since you’ve confided him. Telling him what was bothering you didn’t fit in the context of your situation right now, and besides—he was too tired. He needed to drive.

Jin stumbles off the couch and you’re grateful that the room you were sharing had a couch inside, to begin with. You had no idea how to explain the fact that you and your husband weren’t sharing a bed to your in-laws, and you didn’t want to. It saved the hassle.

(Even if he’d take a part of you to sleep every night when he rests his head against the throw pillow than on the bed.)

He shuffles into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him to not wake anyone else up. The kids' room was a good distance away, but some of them had really acute hearing and he likely didn’t want to risk that. You didn’t need to spend another half an hour trying to get Jiho to sleep.

You sigh deeply, brushing a hand through your hair as your feet takes you towards the second-floor kitchen (and yes, Jin’s family was that wealthy to have a kitchen attached to each floor) as you prepare yourself a cup of hot milk. It’s a drink you’ve made over and over throughout the years, the same brand of carton milk always remains in the fridge—and you knew it was about the Kim’s had relatively picky eating habits.

It’s different this time because you’re making one instead of two, a lone cup that’s usually accompanied by another makes you sadder. It makes your heart hurt all over again and you’re exhausted. You’re drained but you can’t sleep because your body remains active due to the way that your mind runs miles.

You focus on the milk because maybe it’ll hurt less when you don’t think. But it doesn’t—because the stupid fucking milk only reminds you of him. The man in his room, snoozing away while you lose sleep all over again.

You’re momentarily absorbed in the way that the residue from the milk swirls in the cup to notice or hear the shuffling of feet beside you, but it’s too late because when you turn you nearly scream.

“Sorry.”

You’re surprised to see Jin’s mother standing there as you place a hand to your chest to ease your racing heart.

“I nearly screamed,” you confess, shaking your head as she smiles apologetically at you.

“I tend to do that,” she says, “My husband’s always telling me I move like I’m avoiding a footprint.”

You laugh at that, not disagreeing as you mindlessly stir your drink.

“It’s late, eomeonim,” you say with a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”

She gives you a kind smile before she looks over her shoulder.

“Heard something in the kitchen and woke up,” she tells you as your face grimaces in embarrassment, “Shall we head to the office to talk?”

You nod your head mutely, unsure on why she’s decided to stay away even if it nearly approaches two am, but you don’t argue with her. Instead, she guides you towards the study, a comfortable room where you can speak freely without worrying too much about waking others. Your thoughts run a lot more liberally in here, despite the ache in your chest.

You take a seat on the couch, noting that it’s changed. You haven’t been here in a while, yet it remained homey with a much-needed replacement.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

She waves you off.

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she says.

Your eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is there something wrong?”

She sighs, staring wistfully to the side as you see her throat move as she swallows. The longer the silence ensues, the antsier you grew. Was she okay? Did something happen to her? Is she—?

“You and Jin are getting a divorce.”

You nearly drop your glass as you spill some of the contents on your t-shirt, hissing at the stain. But you can’t even be bothered to reach for a tissue to clean at it when you’re looking up with a horrified expression to meet your mother-in-law's face.

“I—eomeonim—how?” you splutter, cheeks flushed in mortification.

“I overheard the two of you,” she says simply, “And Jin left his laptop open and I saw an email from Jimin regarding the papers.”

You don’t know what to say because you’re absolutely mortified. More importantly, you feel ashamed. Ashamed because she found out due to you and Jin’s shouting in the kitchen and his carelessness. Not from you yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, emotions slowly overwhelming you as she looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you apologising, my sweet girl?” she says softly, immediately reaching out to you to wrap her arms around you as a mother would. And right now, she wasn’t your mother-in-law—but a woman who’s seen you grow alongside her own two children. You weren’t disappointing your mother-in-law but your second mother.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you choke, tears immediately falling the tighter she holds you, “I-I’m s-so sorry. I-I tried—I didn’t—want to but—I-I’m sorry.”

Your words are slurred the harder you cry, pathetically shoving your face into her shoulder as she holds you. The dam breaks, unleashing the emotions you’ve held in for so long in the arms of a mother. She doesn’t say anything but brushes your hair, holding you a little tighter when your tears stain her nightgown.

You don’t know why you’re crying so hard. Maybe it’s because it seems all too real now, with Jin’s mother knowing. Her words only solidify the fact that your marriage was nearly over and you couldn’t do anything. The ghost of Jin’s words from a day earlier still remain clear to you, and maybe—it was really your fault.

You decided it was over.

“____,” she calls you softly as you continue to sniffle in her arms, frustrated at the fact that your tears weren’t stopping. “Look at me, dear.”

You force yourself to obey even if you can’t bear to, the humiliation of her finding out this way still tormenting you.

“I’m sorry, eom—”

“Please don’t say sorry,” she holds your face in her hands, forcing your puffy eyes to look at her.

“But it’s,” you choke, unable to look at her without wanting to cry. “It’s—my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replies vehemently, swiping at your tears for you, “It’s not your fault.” She repeats in a softer tune.

“I wanted the divorce, eomeonim,” your lips wobble when you speak, words shakily escaping past your lips, “It’s all my fault.”

“I’m sorry,” she says instead as you nearly knock your forehead with hers at how fast you try to pull away, appalled that she was the one apologising.

“Why are you—?” your brows furrow in confusion when she holds onto you a little tighter.

“I’m not just Jin’s mother or your mother-in-law,” she says softly, “I’m a person and I see that you’re hurting. I’m apologising because you don’t deserve this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes look up to the ceiling to stop your tears.

“I know mothers-in-law will side with their son,” she says, “But I won’t. Because Jin made a mistake and now you’re suffering because of him.”

“It’s not his fault,” you reply quietly.

You know that you blamed him earlier, but deep down—you could never blame Jin. You were the one that brought forward the divorce, and if you decided to keep fighting then maybe … maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much.

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, that’s the last thing I want to do but …” she trails off as you stare at her expectantly, “I don’t know who he is without you, ____.”

You bite your lips to prevent yourself from crying again.

“Please don’t think of this as me trying to convince you to stay with him,” she begs, “If you’re unhappy, I rather you leave him than punish yourself.” You nod your head, eyes darting to your lap as she continues. “But I spoke to Jin.”

Your eyes immediately dart up in surprise as your eyes widen.

“You—?”

“Right after,” she continues softly, “I caught him before he went to bed and …” her eyes begin to water and you think you’re about to break again. “I haven’t seen him cry since your wedding day.”

Her confession knocks the wind out of you as you find yourself gasping, tears immediately leaving your eyes. The realisation that Jin cried, to his mother makes your heart clench. You knew that Jin wasn’t much of a crier himself—he didn’t even cry when Jiho was born. Nor was he the type to cry in front of his mother. He held his ego at a high level even if that irked you at times, so the news only makes you more devastated.

“I don’t know what he said to you per se,” she whispers, “But he loves you. He loves you so much—and that goddamn idiot doesn’t know how to do anything but work and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t be apologising on my son’s behalf but I want to. I want to because I love you as my daughter and I want to see you happy.”

“Eomeonim …” you croak, reaching your hand up to cover hers that lay on your face.

“Please, if you call me that I think I’m going to bawl,” she laughs quietly as you find yourself giggling along, despite the way it gets stuck in your throat. “My son is stupid. So stupid. Please—please talk to him. If it …” she swallows, “If it doesn’t work out—I’ll support you, either way. Just please, don’t leave whatever questions you have unanswered.”

You nod your head, chest feeling slightly lighter but burdened nevertheless.

“I will,” you say softly, “I promise.”

You walk her back to her room after, hugging her tightly at her door as she pushes past it, sniffling ever so slightly before retreating into the dark room.

You make your way quietly back to your room, mind weighed with different thoughts plaguing every crevice of your brain. You didn’t know what to make of her confession or statement. You wanted to believe her that Jin still loved you—but you didn’t know. You couldn’t know because you don’t remember the last time he held you, or maybe you did and it was months ago.

Your feet stop right in front of the door as you hesitate to reach for the knob. He was asleep, anyway. You decide to push, slowly turning as you slip into the dark room.

It wasn’t dark.

And Jin was awake.

He’s awake and sat in his bed, something resting on his lap as he uses the nightlight beside him to flip through it. He hears the intrusion as you stand, frozen, and his eyes lift to meet yours.

You think this is the first time in a while that you’ve seen him like this, in bed and comfortable with a slight puffiness to his eyes while his shirt remains wrinkled—the proof of his comfort. Your heart clenches because you missed this—missed returning to him in bed, soft and warm as you press against him.

And the dam breaks for the second time that night.

You don’t know what compels you to run to him, or allow him to hold you while you sob into his arms—but you do. You practically leap onto him, body curling pathetically into his side as he holds you like he’s afraid you’d slip away. He lets you cry your eyes out, he lets you cry until snot is unattractively running down your nose and staining his t-shirt. He lets you, because he hasn’t let you feel him for a long time.

You instantly melt into his hold, missing his warmth. And when your eyes briefly fall into his lap to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, you cry even harder.

It was a banner you made for his twenty-ninth birthday, right after the two of you got married. Your then favourite pictures of Jin stained every surface of the banner, some edges wearing off due to age—and you remember each moment so vividly.

From taking a picture of him when he was taking a picture of you, to when he was making you breakfast in the morning, to his birthday as you smashed cake into his face, the flowers he got you when he broke your favourite cup, your fishing trip—everything. You remember it.

You sob harder, clutching onto his t-shirt as he tucks your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. You were so tired of crying but it was all you could do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after your sobs turn into tireless chokes, “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you,” you cry, hitting his chest while he lets you, “Why are you so stupid.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m stupid. Hate me. Do anything you want to me.”

“I-I”—you croak, still slamming your fists into his chest weakly as you helplessly flutter your eyes shut—“I don’t hate you.” You finish quietly, your truth surfacing as you note that his eyes soften at your defeated tone.

Your emotions are everywhere and frankly, you can’t really think with how you’re pressed against his body like you never wanted him to let go. Right now, you didn’t. You wanted to be held, vulnerable and teary while he soothes you with his gentle touches.

You can’t stop the tears, way too overwhelmed to even process the fact that Jin doesn’t shift away one bit, hand clutching the back of your head as he rubs circles against your scalp. Who were you to pull away?

You sniffle pathetically before you pull away ever so slightly, flushed and embarrassed at the sudden loss of control over your emotions.

“Are you done?” he asks softly, referring to your tears as you pull away to swipe under your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I still feel like crying.”

“Then cry,” he replies gently, “I’ll be here to hold you.”

You want to hit him because his words only spur the tears on.

“I just wanted you,” you whisper, “I only wanted you …” your lips wobble when you look up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, “I know sorry won’t erase the pain I’ve caused you but that’s all I can offer for now.”

“Why did you—why did you just”—you sniff pathetically—“why didn’t you fight me. Why didn’t you stop me.”

“I thought it would make you happy,” he pulls away, and you both know how absurd his excuse sounds but you’re too tired to fight. “I only wanted you to be happy.”

“You idiot,” you hiss through a clogged nose, “You would’ve made me happy.” You say softly. “I wanted to be happy with you.”

“You make me happy too,” he says softly into your hair.

You’re still angry, and you’re tired. But even if there were things you were unsure about, you missed being close to Jin more than anything.

“Your mom said you were stupid,” you murmur.

He laughs quietly, pulling you closer to his chest.

“I am,” he agrees.

The silence returns but it’s no longer as suffocating as the past few days have been. It’s more reflective than not and you’re thankful, even if your eyes are uncomfortably swollen—you allow yourself to be held. The weaker part of you is unable to say no to him.

“Why …” you begin softly, eyes looking up to already see him staring at you. “Why didn’t you sign the papers?”

He blinks at you for a while before he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I didn’t want it to be real,” he says so softly you almost missed it. “I thought—I thought if I dragged it out then …”

“… it wouldn’t have happened?” You finish quietly.

He groans, frustrated as your eyebrows furrow at his sudden change in demeanour.

“I know it sounds pathetic,” he admits, “I was a coward, ____. I was stressed and overwhelmed and—suddenly … you wanted a divorce, I just”—he takes a deep breath to collect himself and you’re mildly alarmed to spot his glassy eyes—“I didn’t know what to do …”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you ask timidly, fingers gripping his shirt tightly. There was really no need for you to cling onto him, but you couldn’t do anything else right now. Especially when he returns the gesture.

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I didn’t want to burden you?” he brushes your hair out of your face as his hand cradles your cheek, “I wanted to be the one you could rely on and … I didn’t know what to do.”

Your face crumbles when you note the sincerity behind his voice. Rationally, you knew that a relationship required communication but you knew Jin, and you knew that he always tried to plaster this mask to the world that depicted him as a reliable and unshakable fortress. All this time … he was struggling and so were you.

The realisation only makes you sadder, and you feel all the more horrible when you remember that you brought up the divorce in the midst of all of this.

“I’m sorry!” you wail, face burying into his chest as his eyes widen.

“_____—” he murmurs.

“No—I just,” you say frantically, rushing to get your words out, afraid if you’d forget as if he’d disappear. “I didn’t know—and I thought—I thought you didn’t … I thought we were—fuck. I’m so sorry, I just wanted you—I—”

You have no idea what you’re saying but Jin doesn’t look confused. He understands, and you know that because he shoots you a gentle smile before rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“Please don’t apologise,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours as you blink away your tears. “I don’t blame you. I could never blame you.”

“But I …” you protest.

He shushes you with a kiss to your forehead and you instantly melt into his hold.

“You did what you thought would make you happy,” he tells you honestly, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I asked for a divorce, Jin,” you exasperate.

“Are we?”

You blink, startled as you pull away, heart nearly shattering until he grabs you by the wrist.

“Hey, no,” he whispers, “That’s not what I meant,” he cups your face in his hands as your lips wobble all over again. God—you fucking despised being a crybaby. “Look at me.”

You do, and you see how tired he looks. How have you not noticed before? His cheeks look duller, and his dark circles are more apparent than ever. You just want to reach out to touch him.

And you do. Your hand shakily reaches out to caress his face in a way that you weren’t able to for the past few months. It’s almost like a new feeling, but your fingers find their way home relatively easy, tracing each pore and wrinkle, memorising his face to memory all over again.

“Are we getting a divorce, ____?” he repeats firmly, never breaking eye contact with you.

Your lip tremble.

“I don’t—” you warble, as he leans his forehead against yours again.

“Because I don’t want a divorce,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s explicitly admitted it.

“I don’t either,” you say weakly.

“I meant it when I said I want to be with you in sickness and in health,” he whispers earnestly, breath tickling your cheek, “And till death do us apart.”

“I’m sorry, Jin,” you say timidly, eyes darting to your lap.

“Don’t apologise to me,” he says sternly, not unkindly as your eyes flutter up. “Not when I’m the one that has an entire lifetime worth of apologies to give you.”

“I just …” you trail off softly, “I just want us to be okay.”

He’s still staring at you, and there’s a pained expression behind his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

His question stuns you, purely because you weren’t expecting it and because you’ve nearly forgotten what it felt like to have his lips pressed against yours, or even the nervous waver of his voice when he looks at you so earnestly that you can’t find the words to respond with. So, you settle for actions instead.

You nod your head mutely, heart ramming against your chest when he begins to lean in.

You don’t remember the last time he’s kissed you, or held you, or looked at you like this. There’s a dull ache in your chest when you recall the nights you’ve spent agonising over the downfall of your marriage, but Jin distracts you from your thoughts when his lips tickle over yours.

There’s no rush this time, even as your eyes are swollen while you flutter them shut. There’s no desperation to kiss you, and you aren’t desperate to be kissed either. It’s as if the both of you wanted to savour this moment—to remember what it feels like to have almost lost. It hurt—but it was necessary. A necessary reminder to you and to Jin that fighting was tiring but it was worth it.

When he finally presses his lips to yours, you nearly cry. You immediately melt into his hold, especially when he cradles your cheek with his palm and pulls you closer to his chest.

You kiss him with a mission to tell him how much you’ve yearned for this—for him. But you’re distracted when you feel something hot against your cheek.

It’s not your tears—it’s his.

You pull away, alarmed when you realise that Jin’s body is shaking.

“Jin?” zYou clutch his shoulders, eyes searching for his as he covers his face with his shoulder, effectively shielding his tears away from you.

“I-I’m sorry,” he chokes, furiously wiping his eyes with his shirt as your face falls.

“J-Jin, please don’t—” you say shakily, going to embrace him, but to your displeasure, he refuses, breathing deeply to collect himself.

You don’t think you’ve seen Jin this uncollected ever. Not even when he was crying during your wedding. His body shakes with the ferocity of his tears, the intensity of his breaths only causes his shoulders to heave up and down and all you can do is stare at him with sad eyes.

“I know an apology won’t fix anything,” he says vehemently, managing to get some of his words out as he peers up at you with red-rimmed eyes, “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you question this marriage—for—for not loving you the way you deserve.”

“Jin …” you say softly, reaching out to hold his hand as his own tears continue to fall from his eyes.

This time, it’s you who allows him to nuzzle his head into the crook of your shoulder as he sobs. It’s quieter than you, but no less painful.

“I was so scared,” he confesses, “I was terrified when you showed me the papers. I really thought—this is it. It’s over.”

You stay silent, biting your lip to stop your own tears from escaping when you recall the memory.

“I was so scared what would happen,” he croaks, “I thought I was going to lose you, forever. I thought—I thought I was going to lose Jiho.”

“I’d never do that to you,” you say shakily.

“I know,” he returns, “But I was the most afraid of who I was going to be without you.”

You look down at him when his eyes dart up, pained and sunken when he clutches your hands in his larger ones, squeezing your fingers in a way that you assume he hopes to translate his desperation. You feel it, and you squeeze back.

“You’re Kim Seokjin,” you murmur, rubbing your thumb across his chin.

“That’s just my name,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m nothing without you.”

“That’s not—”

“You and Jiho were the only one’s that got me through each day, you know?” He murmurs as your heart clenches. “Every day, when another deal failed to follow through and ended up bringing losses—or when the stockholders went against me—I could only think of you and Jiho.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that return this time around, choking on your own sobs.

“I wanted so much to give you both the world that I,” he swallows, “That I got greedy—and I ended up … I ended up losing the both of you instead.”

“I’m here, Jin,” you say softly.

“I know I don’t deserve it yet,” he says quietly, “But please don’t leave me.”

You realise belatedly that even with the divorce, you could never have left him the way you thought you could.

You don’t answer him, instead—you provide your answer through your actions by kissing him. Harder than before but just as earnest. Both of your tears clash against your skins, but you can’t be bothered to care when he returns your kiss with an equal amount of desperation and affection.

“I love you,” he breathes into your mouth as you gasp. “I love you more than love itself.”

You want to hit him in the way he’s making you cry harder.

“I love”—you choke on your words when he presses a kiss to your jaw, his confession raw and honest—“God, I love you.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says vehemently, kissing every inch of your face, your jaw and your neck as you cling onto his shirt desperately right before his dark eyes look up to catch your flushed expression. “Will you let me?”

“Yes—God—please,” you beg, pulling him closer to your body as he peppers open-mouth kisses down your sternum and across your chest.

“Can I love you tonight, ____?”

You nod your head desperately, heart fuller than it’s been in a long time. You know the consequences, and you couldn’t give a damn right now. You still needed to heal, and so did he—but when he holds you a little tighter, you know that neither of you was going anywhere.

“Love me,” you gasp, “Please, Jin.”

“I’ll love you,” he hisses, trailing down your neck, his words juxtaposing with the tenderness of his touch as his hands slip under your shirt. His touch is molten, especially when you’ve missed the feeling of having him like this—close, desperate and yours for the moment.

“I miss you,” you confess while he drags his fingers across your abdomen and rests right under your breasts. He looks up at you with soft eyes as you return them, eyes swollen. “I really miss you, Jin.”

He leans up to kiss you, hands multitasking as they cup your tits while you gasp into his mouth.

“I miss you,” he returns with a heartfelt tone, “I’ll never let this happen. Ever again.”

Now, all you can do is trust him, trust him and his words and that he’d take care of you. His hands tickle under your shirt but you can’t be bothered when he finally cups your breast with his large hands, gentle yet steadfast when he tweaks your peaked buds.

“O-Oh,” you gasp, head lulling back when his lips trail down to your neck, hands already helping you out of your shirt.

“Will you let me see you, beautiful?” he murmurs.

“Please,” you say breathlessly, lifting your arms up to ease the process.

You should’ve felt vulnerable, being more than just physically naked in front of him. But throughout the hurt and the pain, he’s never made you doubt yourself for once. It was as if you were held captive by him, even when your heart was slowly shattering. It’s also why when he gives you a once over with hunger behind his eyes, you don’t shy away. Instead, your back arches, giving him more than enough to see—to feel.

“I missed you,” he repeats, pressing a kiss to your nipple as you whimper, hands curling around his hair as his head dips lower, “Missed you—missed how gorgeous you looked like this.”

He tells you more by painting the truth on your breast, lavishing each bud with pert attention as you find yourself growing wetter in arousal. His tongue is hot against the cool air of the room, the juxtaposition of the temperatures only sending your head into short-circuiting.

“J-Jin please,” you breathe, staring down at him when his dark eyes lift up to meet yours. His stare is enough to have your thighs clenching together. “M-More.”

“Of course,” he croons, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You mewl as his hands trace fluttering touches against your stomach before they’re reaching your mound. He doesn’t drag this out as he’d normally, the distant memories of your nights spent tangled together as he edged you till you were crying. No, this time—he’s gentle, he’s soft and careful with the way he handles you, spreading your legs as you pliantly obey, eyes fluttering with every move that he makes.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound as you whimper at the contact, needy in want. “I’m gonna eat this pretty pussy, hm?”

You nod your head in desperation, lifting your hips to aid him in the process of slipping off your pants along with your panties, baring your slicked pussy to his face. You catch a brief glimpse of his expression, especially when he unabashedly ogles your wetness with desire behind his eyes. You’re a little flustered since it’s been a while, so your legs naturally threaten to snap shut but Jin doesn’t let you get too far.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly, eyes peering up at you as you can’t find it in you to respond with how your throat clamps shut. “Want to see you. Always do.”

Your heart tugs in your chest, but you aren’t able to dwell on the feeling for too long when Jin dives into your heat, tongue immediately flattening against your pussy as he tracks your wetness up your slit to where your engorged bud lies. Your back immediately arches while your hand finds purchase in his hair, grounding yourself at the way your stomach immediately heaves inwards at his ministrations.

Jin doesn’t relent, nor does he tease. He’s quick and precise with every flick of his appendage over your clit, rapidly swirling the bud in the way you like as he alternates between harsh sucks and tugging at the pearl, causing sobs of pleasure to leave your lips. It’s a product of how long you’ve been together and how he’s learned every pulse and shiver as a sign of your pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you mewl, “D-Don’t stop.”

“You taste so good, love,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations immediately causing your toes to curl as your head tilts backwards. “A pussy like yours should be eaten every day, yeah? As your husband—I should do that.”

When he calls himself your husband, you feel yourself whine in pleasure, the term causing fondness to bloom in your chest. You don’t know if he’s said it on purpose, but he doesn’t stop with his actions, instead, one of the hands that presses your stomach down to keep you in place reaches up to where your hand clutches his hair and brings it away.

“J-Jin,” you whine, hips bucking when he swirls his tongue over your clit, slowly while his eyes peer up to lock with yours.

The act is all too intimate, and your poor heart can barely take it with how sensitive you are all over, emotionally and physically. But Jin takes your flushed face as a good sign, and he ruins you all over when he intertwines your fingers together.

“Can feel you clenching,” he hums teasingly, “you going to come for me?”

You nod your head vigorously, fingers pressing tightly against his larger palm as he laughs into your pussy at your eagerness. Once he gets the confirmation for you, it’s like he was holding out the entire time despite him causing your legs to shiver by the side of his face.

This time, Jin presses his face tightly against your pussy as you squeal, louder than you expected as he flicks his tongue over your bud so rapidly that your mind is blank in pleasure, legs shaking uncontrollably as your body quivers in pleasure.

“Oh oh oh! J-Jin—fuck, I-I’m gonna—please let me cum, please please please,” you cry desperately, hips grinding against his face as he slurps your clit like he was parched.

“Come for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you drench my tongue,” he encourages you softly, yet his words send a wave of pleasure all across your body as you finally feel the last bit of your coil snap.

“J-Jin!” you sob, back arching as his large palm splays over your stomach to keep you rooted in position, forcing you to take all the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs shake by his face as he keeps his mouth open with his tongue out as you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm away.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away with a parting kiss to your clit that as you jumping. “I missed this. Missed your pussy.”

“Miss you,” you mumble dazedly, your fingers carding through his hair as he peers up at you.

“Come here,” he whispers, inching up as he gently holds your cheek in his palm while you immediately lean into his touch.

While you lay on his bed, relatively boneless, Jin stares at you with devout affection, his eyes softening when he holds your gaze. His lips glisten with your wetness, mouth slightly parting while he rubs a thumb against your cheek.

“I love you,” he says quietly, “I really—I’m so in love with you.”

“Jin,” you say shyly, eyes darting away when he doesn’t look away.

“You’re the love of my life,” he divulges gently, leaning his forehead against yours as you take in every freckle that marks his skin, and the dulcet curve of his lips when he presses it against yours.

You can’t find a response that would indulge in what you truly felt, so you settle for reciprocating his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you learn all about the way he feels all over again. You miss this, and you’d admit it over and over again—until he reminds you just how much of a home his touch was.

“I want you,” you whimper, pulling away to peer up to his dark eyes.

“Gotta be quiet, okay?” he murmurs as you nod obediently. “Need me to prep you? It’s been a while.”

Ever the gentleman and the considerate person he was, although you reckoned it was the most sensible option—you missed the feeling of having him feel you whole.

“No need,” you say, “Just—fuck me, please.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press hot kisses against your jaw and the nape of your neck as he uses his palms to spread your legs, feeling the way his hardened cock presses against your thigh. You take the time to card your fingers through his hair, gently pressing against his temple, then his cheek, and finally his bottom lip while you attempt to let your actions display what you feel.

As if Jin senses this, he leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips. One that’s both desperate and longing, a greeting from the past that blooms in the present.

“Ready?” he murmurs, fist clutching his cock while it prods against your quivering hole.

He swiftly removes his shirt, chucking it aside as he presses the tip against your quivering hole. You nod eagerly, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he finally pushes through the first barrier. Your breath hitches, mostly because Jin wasn’t average-sized by any means. He grunts from above you, face contorted as he slowly inches his way in, careful to not hurt you.

Frankly, you were wet enough from your previous orgasm and how much your body craved him—but as you mentioned, he was big. But the pleasant burn of his girth stretching you out have you gasping, eyes peering up at him in desperation.

“M-More,” you whimper, hips chasing his as you encourage him to sheathe himself further into you.

“Are you sure?” he asks, lips pressed against your jaw as you nod.

“I’m good,” you assure him, pulling away just to shoot him a small smile that he returns.

Finally, he bottoms out, the last bit of his length in you as you whimper at the feeling of being so full, so whole. Jin remains still, to allow you a few seconds to adjust to having him in you. While you were desperate for more, you appreciated the gesture.

There’s something oddly intimate about having him in you but not moving at all. There’s no rush to thrust into you with hot pleasure and love, but just the comfort of having him here—with you. Your heart squeezes in fondness, mostly because you missed him. Missed having him so close to you and in your reach.

“Y-You can move,” you pant, hips already moving at their own accord as he groans from above you.

“God,” he sighs, “I missed you. Missed you so much.”

“I-I missed you too,” you say in between pants as he begins to thrust into you, pulling his cock out until the hilt before slamming back home.

It sends your body up the bed as you indulge in how good it feels. Both emotionally and physically. One of your hands clutches at his hair while he builds up his pace by occupying all the space in between your hot walls.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “You feel so—good.”

You nearly forgot how strong Jin was, and how effortlessly he was able to send white-hot pleasure coursing through your bloodstream with the way that his hips move. He’s relentless with his pounding, the squelches of your wetness echoing in the room with every single purposeful thrust, your gasps of pleasure tangled with the way the slap of his hips meet yours—it’s all too stimulating and it feels so good.

“Oh my God, J-Jin, fuck, oh,” you sob, clawing at his back when he speeds up his thrusts, the tip of his cockhead scraping against the spot within you that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You feel so full, and your pussy is attempting to accommodate his thick and long length. Your clit is throbbing in want as your hand reaches down to deliver some reprieve, but before you can do anything meaningful—Jin’s slapping your hand away to replace it with his own, and a determined expression on his face.

“Fuck, this pussy’s so wet,” he hisses, rubbing vigorous figure eights on your swollen bud as your mouth falls open into a silent moan, “Would die for this pussy. Always.”

His words send your stomach clenching, paired with the way he doesn’t falter at all with the rhythm of his brutal thrusts.

“Oh oh—ngh, p-please—don’t stop oh my God you’re so fucking—good,” you scream, right before Jin captures your mouth with his lips, swallowing your moans.

“As much as I want to hear you, we’re not home,” he reminds you softly, eyes swirling with amusement as you flush a deeper shade of red, a chortled squeal caught in your throat when he emphasises his point with a particular thrust that has your chest jostling.

Yet, it’s not his cock that has you burning.

Home.

Your home. The home that hasn’t felt much like one.

“Ohhhh,” you wail, muffled by his lips, “Don’t stop oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum again—shit.”

“Yeah, gonna cum for me again?” he eggs you on with a grunt, leaning his chest against yours as your sticky body meets while his hips continue working its way into your pussy. “God fuck, I’m so lucky—you’re so beautiful.

“J-Jin,” you mewl, your glassy eyes peering up at him as he returns. Somehow, he knows—he knows even if all you’ve uttered was his name.

“I got you, my love,” he says so ardently that you feel a tear fall, both in pleasure and in overwhelming love. “Look at me.”

You do, and Jin decides to intertwine the free hand that isn’t abusing your poor clit into blazing pleasure with your own, squeezing your hand. It just so happens to be his left hand, and you feel the familiar squeeze of his wedding ring against your empty finger.

The realisation that he never took it off only makes you cry harder.

“J-Jin, I-I’m—” you blubber through a moan, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tenfold when he rams into you at a speed and a sense of determination you’ve never felt before. “I—oh fuck—I’m going to—!”

“I love you,” he confesses, squeezing your hand as it lays by the side of your head. The heat grows, and you feel yourself grow light-headed when Jin leans in to press a hot kiss to your lips, his own grunts caught in between your teeth.

“I love—fuck, oh,” you struggle to form coherent words, not when your pussy clenches erratically around his length, your wetness dripping down his balls while he attempts to focus on battering your g-spot with a snipers precision.

“Cum for me,” he grunts, “Cum for me and look me in the eye. Wanna see how fucking gorgeous you look for me.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as more tears fall, and when you open them—you see a manic look in Jin’s gaze, paired with his own stray tear falling.

“I love you—I love you I love you I love you,” you chant frantically, cunt pulsing as your legs shake, “I-I’m cum—cumming—”

“Me too, love,” he murmurs, hips stuttering when you clench around him. “I love you so much. You’re the—best thing. I’m so fucking—lucky.”

His own words are slurred, and you feel the coil snap, your eyes trained only on his expression as you feel your orgasm overtake you with an acute force that has you nearly blanking out. You gush around his length, and that stimulates Jin’s own release, his cum painting your walls white with its heat as you shudder at the feeling of being so wholly full.

“Oh oh oh,” you mewl, clutching his hand tighter as you choke on your sobs of pleasure and tears. “Kiss me. Kiss me please.”

Your pleas are granted with a desperate kiss to your lips, your arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders while he shoves his cock further into you, plugging his cum as you whine into his open mouth. He releases loads of his cum into you that it threatens to slip past your swollen folds.

Jin kisses you, and you kiss him back. You don’t dare to let go and neither does he. The desperation between the two of you is an accumulation of nights spent apart, spent agonising the death of your relationship, the potential of a future without each other—the hypotheticals of what-ifs. You feel his ring against your jaw when he curls his hand around it to push himself deeper into your mouth.

“I love you,” he says again, and yet your heart flutters like it’s the first.

You pull away to catch your breath, forehead resting against his as you sniff the remaining of your tears away. A croaked laugh leaves your lips as Jin smiles softly at you, thumb rubbing against your cheek with immense tenderness and affection that you can’t do anything but lean into his touch.

He’s still in you, and yet—there’s no rush to move despite the cum that leaks out of your hole.

“I love you,” you echo.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, regret staining his words as his eyes flutter shut. “I—I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness just yet—”

You stop him by pressing a kiss to his lips, soft. Pleading.

“We’ve got all the time to learn,” you say quietly, “Now, I just want you.”

He pauses for a second just to observe your face, to take in your earnest eyes as he sighs, both remorseful and thankful. Thankful that he’s met you, and thankful that you’re still here despite his shortcomings.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says with a determined gaze as you smile softly at him.

“I’ll take your word on that,” you say with a giggle.

He pulls out of you as you wince, immediately feeling his cum drip out of you. You’re about to whine a complaint, but he interrupts any ripostes from your lips with another kiss.

You’re not complaining.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says as you flush at his words. “Being next to you. Learning with you. Growing with you. I want to do it all—only with you.”

You want to slap him. You do. It’s the only thing you can think of when you feel your tears burn behind your eyelids.

“God,” you sniff as he grins at you.

“You’re such a crybaby,” he teases, leaning over your body to pick up his t-shirt before he’s wiping at your folds.

You scowl, ready to nag his ear off for using his own shirt, but before you can do any damage, he’s chucking it aside once he deems you clean enough before he’s suffocating you with a death grip around your body.

“My baby,” he murmurs into your neck as you flush.

“Jiiiiiiin,” you whine, “I need to—I need to pee.”

“Let me carry you,” he immediately says, swooping your naked body up with his arms as you yelp.

“I’m not—I can walk!” you squeak.

“Don’t think so,” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him, your eyes still puffy from your tears. “Your legs are shaking.”

And shaking, they were. You knew that you had no way of walking to the bathroom without collapsing with how good Jin had fucked you previously. But you were prideful as you stick your nose up snootily, looking away when he leans in to kiss you.

“Does the queen not want to kiss her king?” he pouts childishly as you roll her eyes.

“More like a peasant,” you mutter.

You squeal when he threatens to tickle you, blowing a raspberry into your neck while your boisterous laughter echoes against the wall.

It’s late, and people were sleeping, but the way that Jin holds you so gently as you’ve remembered—makes you forget about reality, about everything else. You can only focus on him, the way he’s making you feel and the way you see your best friend, love of your life—and your husband—return to you.

“Hey,” he murmurs once you’re done peeing and draped over one of his large t-shirts as the two of you cuddle in bed.

“Hm?”

“I love you,” he whispers, your eyes nearly drooping shut in fatigue.

“I love you too,” you say softly, snuggling into his chest as he holds you tighter.

“Once we go back …” he murmurs, “I want—I want us to go for couple therapy.”

You pause.

You look up at him, noticing his nervous expression as you smile. You wrap your fingers around him before brushing your thumb over his knuckles comfortingly.

“Okay,” you agree, “We will.”

“And … I want to take you out,” he says before clearing his throat. “On a date.”

“We’re married,” you giggle.

And it feels to good to believe it.

He rolls his eyes and you spot the slight flush on his cheeks.

“I know,” he says, “I missed going out with you.”

Your face softens before you sigh to yourself, happy.

“Me too,” you say.

“I love you,” he repeats again. You won’t ever get tired of hearing it.

You return it with a kiss, and finally, allow yourself a comfortable sleep after months.

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It’s both simultaneously all too hot and too cold when you arise from your slumber.

Your body aches in satisfaction from the events from last night, and you vividly remember the hot touches and long-awaited, teary-eyed confessions that were shared between you and your husband (and yes, your heart does bloom when you refer to Jin as his rightful position in your life rather than … that).

But the indent of where his body lays remains cool, as your body attempts to search for warmth that wasn’t the duvet absolutely suffocating you but in a touch of the love of your life. Still drowsy from sleep, you pat down on the mattress to find not what you were looking for, but a sick feeling of anxiety that stirs in your stomach.

The worst permeates your mind, and for a moment you’ve wondered if you dreamt it all—the reconciliation that promised retribution and a better future just a figment of your imagination and deepest desires. The mound between your thighs aches when you push yourself into an upright position, blinking as you attempt to search the room for his whereabouts.

Before your mind can continue to think the worst of the situation, the door creaks open—and Jin enters, face still slightly puffy from sleep but no less handsome than he’s always been. Your shoulders droop in relief, and just as you’re about to call to him—you note the third guest that joins you.

“Stole Jiho from the kids' room,” he whispers in consideration of your still snoozing son as he wraps himself around his father’s broad body.

“Thought you left,” you confess softly, making space when his knee pressed against the mattress, only for him to lay Jiho softly on the plush surface as he joins his son by his side.

“Never,” Jin says, reaching a hand to brush a stray hair away from your face before he reaches to hold your hand to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

At that moment, your son’s eyes slowly peer open, probably due to the fact that you and Jin were staring at him with full adoration. When he realises it’s just his parents, he grins, wide and with his bread cheeks before he lets out a giggle that has your heart soaring.

“Mama,” he smiles, chubby arms reaching out for a hug as you indulge in his affection. You lay back, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he snuggles into your warmth.

“Just wanted to hold the both of you,” Jin says as you rub gentle circles on Jiho’s back.

Your heart softens exponentially, free hand reaching out to Jin’s so that he’d wrap an arm around you and your son.

“Warm,” Jiho mumbles, pressed between the bodies of you and Jin’s love while the two of you stare, hopelessly and utterly in love with the person you’ve created—and each other.

“I love you, Jiho,” Jin whispers, hugging him impossibly tighter as your son smiles innocently.

“Love you!” he chirps back, eyes fluttering shut the more comfortable it gets for him.

As you run your fingers fondly through the strands of your son’s hair, Jin’s voice interrupts your love-dazed gaze with a soft confession, a record of the years you’ve known each other and the many more years you had to learn about each other.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss.

You smile even with the crust in your eyes, happy and content. You don’t respond because Jin’s already beginning to doze off, cheeks puffed and pressed against the pillow.

For a moment, you allow yourself to be selfish, to wallow in the love of your small family and the warmth that they gave you today, and every other day that was to come. You and Jin still had a long way to go before you could properly say things were okay, but the fact that either of you had given up, was more than enough to give you hope—to give you a vision of another thirty years, and more.

You’d do it all, with Jin.

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#ggukkiefaves #ggukkierecommends #seokjin x reader #m:ksj #l:oneshot #20kto30k #g:afs #extraangst #r:cf2l #r:established #au:husband #au:parenting #au:divorce #rate:mature #s:unprotected #s:creampie #s:oral

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

Text

🌷 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ This made me laugh, 😂! Thank you for continuing their story. I was laughing at the comparisons OC thought of - Dirk from 70s porn to Gandalf to rodents. Hahaha! That was a good mix of humor and smut 😍. Getting a bit invested in this couple, I must say 🍿👀.

Pornstache

You're rebuilding your relationship with your husband, but his new facial hair is making you rethink your decision.

Pairing: Taehyung x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, swearing, fluff and facial hair.

Author disclaimer:

1) This is the couple from 7 hours because I didn't want to leave them. This works as a standalone, you don't have to have read 7 hours to read this. There'll be more stories to come.

2)The views of the protagonist in this drabble don't necessarily reflect the views of this blog in general. This is a non-judgemental space - all facial hair patterns welcome.

Taehyung comes to you for a kiss just before he heads out the door. His stubbly chin tickles you as he murmurs in your ear, ‘dinner out later?’

‘Sure. I’ll reserve a table,’ you say. You smile at him then go back to reading the briefing notes you’ve just written for the comms director you work for.

Tae’s at a climate change conference today, as one of the panel. He’s also giving the keynote address this afternoon. You wonder if he was running late and if that’s why he didn’t have time to shave.

He’s so handsome a little stubble probably only adds to his appeal, you figure. You put it out of your mind and go back to reading.

***

You meet your friend Jimin for lunch. He’s actually one of your and Taehyung’s friends from university. He owns his own company now, and you’ve heard he can be cutthroat, but it’s hard for you to see him as anything but the loyal and kind guy who saw you home after countless house parties.

‘How’s Tae?’ Jimin asks as you wait for your food.

‘He’s good, we’re good. We’re working on things. We’re living together now,’ you tell him.

You take a sip of your wine. ‘It’s going ok.’

Jimin smiles warmly at you. ‘I’m glad. You’re restoring my faith in love.’

‘Who hurt you that you have to rely on Tae and me to ‘restore your faith in love’?’ you tease. ‘I thought things were going well with Jess.’

‘Yeah, she’s great,’ Jimin says. ‘But you and Tae are the greatest love story to come out of our year.’

‘Seems a lot to live up to,’ you sigh.

Jimin laughs. ‘Jess wants to have you two over for dinner soon.’

Jess is Jimin’s long-term partner, a sous-chef with a Michelin star. You’re never going to turn down dinner at Jess’.

‘Sounds great,’ you say.

***

To your surprise, Taehyung is already at your table when you arrive for your dinner date.

‘Hey, baby,’ he says, getting up to kiss you as you approach. ‘How was your day?’

‘Great,’ you reply. You slip into your seat. ‘I met Jiminie for lunch. He wants to have us over sometime. Jess is cooking.’

‘I’d love that,’ Tae says immediately. He nods his thanks as the waiter brings drinks. ‘I ordered you a cocktail, I hope that’s ok.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ve got to fly to Helsinki next week,’ Taehyung says. ‘There’s another COP.’

‘Will you be gone long?’ you ask.

‘A couple weeks, max,’ Taehyung says. ‘We can have dinner with Jimin and Jess after that.’

He scratches at his chin.

‘You ok?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, just this stubble is itchy.’

You cup his chin. Taehyung’s pretty hirsute compared to his group of friends. He’s always had to shave daily. It means there’s always shaving gel in the bathroom, but he’s complained more than once about not enjoying having to shave regularly. He refuses to shave on weekends.

‘I thought I’d grow it out,’ he says, casually.

You look down at your menu.

‘As in grow a beard?’ you ask.

‘Whatever wants to grow,’ he says, shrugging.

‘Well, you do hate shaving, baby,’ you say lightly. You don’t think anything more of it as you order your meal.

***

You’ve been kissing Taehyung goodbye all morning before he leaves for Helsinki. Your skin is starting to feel a little raw from his stubble rubbing against it.

‘Ah, sorry, baby,’ he says, rubbing a thumb gently over your cheek. ‘It’ll get softer when it gets longer, I promise.’

‘Is my face red?’ you ask, still hazy from his kisses.

You push yourself up off the bed, dragging him down to you to kiss him again.

‘Your poor face,’ Taehyung says. He strokes your hair back. ‘I’ll call you when I arrive, ok?’

‘Sure baby,’ you say. You’re about to get up to see him to the door when he pushes you gently back onto the bed.

‘Stay in bed. I’ll be thinking about you tangled up in these sheets all day,’ he says. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and gets up.

He heads to the door, and as you watch him leave you admire how beautiful he looks in his cashmere sweater, his tailored slacks.

Even his stubble is starting to look more even now, after a week of patchiness.

Your husband is gorgeous. You flip over in bed, wondering if it’s inappropriate to masturbate to him when he’s literally just left after spending all night fucking you into the bed.

***

Your phone rings and you dive into bed, pulling the covers over you.

‘Hey, baby,’ you say.

Taehyung’s voice sounds in your ear, deep, warm. ‘Hey baby. What are you up to?’

‘Just had a bath,’ you say.

‘Are you dressed?’ Taehyung asks. He sounds like he’s stretching out.

‘Barely. But there’s no one here,’ you reply.

‘I’m naked,’ Taehyung tells you. ‘I just had a shower.’

‘Isn’t it cold in Helsinki?’ you ask, curious.

‘Even when it’s cold there’s plenty of me to go around,’ Taehyung says.

You can hear the smirk in his voice.

Your husband’s not wrong, even if his cockiness makes you want to smack him.

‘You horny, baby?’ you ask, teasing.

He grunts. ‘I want to wait until I come back to you.’

‘When does your flight arrive?’ you ask.

‘Midnight tomorrow. Stay up for me? We can have a lazy Sunday.’

‘Sounds perfect, baby,’ you say.

Tae’s been away for two weeks, and you can’t wait to see him again.

***

It’s just after 1am when you hear the front door open.

It’s ridiculous how excited you are to see Tae.

You smooth a hand over the silky robe you’re wearing, tugging the belt tight around your waist. You’re not wearing anything underneath, and you want Tae to find that out himself.

Only it’s not the Tae you know that’s stepping into your entrance hall, dropping his keys in the dish.

This man is not your husband.

He’s not the man you met in the library at university, who you loved enough to marry and promise your life to, who you walked a marathon with a few months ago.

He smiles at you, and you can barely see his beautiful lips under the forest of hair on his face.

Your beloved Taehyung has a full beard.

Even worse, above his upper lip, is a sheaf of dark, bristly hair.

Your beloved Taehyung has a full beard, and a pornstache.

There’s no other way to describe it. He looks like he’s just won the lead role in a 70s porno where he’s playing someone called Dirk who wears overalls and carries a toolbox.

Taehyung’s smiling at you. You think he’s smiling from the way his eyes are sparkling. Who knows what’s going on under all that hair.

He’s going in for a kiss, sliding an arm around your waist. He smells familiar, the timbre of his voice is familiar, but you have to squeeze your eyes shut before you can kiss him back.

‘Baby,’ he says, delight in his voice as he discovers you’re bare under your skimpy shorty robe.

His fingers slip over your skin, and over your cunt, which is drier than the Sahara.

‘Tae,’ you murmur faintly, because you don’t want to upset him.

‘You look so good, baby, I’ve missed you so much.’ Taehyung’s warm hands have pulled your robe apart and are stroking over your skin.

You feel your body responding to him from muscle memory alone.

There’s only one thing for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

‘Can we go in the bedroom, baby?’ you ask.

You turn the lights off as you go.

***

You wake up to Taehyung’s face between your legs. Your eyes travel down his beautiful forehead, his stunning eyes, and the carpet of hair obscuring his upper lip, cheeks and chin.

Taehyung’s hands are on your thighs. His beard tickles you as he mouths at your skin.

He reaches the apex of your thighs, and his lips press against your clit.

Last night, not being able to see him clearly and the familiarity of his cock and hands had enabled you to get off.

Today, in the early morning sunlight, there’s no hiding it.

Your husband has a pornstache, and he’s keen to shove it between your legs.

You say a quiet prayer for the delicate skin of your labia.

You’ve never worked so hard to cum for Tae. He’s making all the right sounds, doing all the right things, and all you can think is that you’re got a tiny furry rodent between your legs.

You can’t bear it, so you decide to fake it. You curl your hand in his hair and buck into his face. ‘So good,’ you gasp. ‘Oh my god, Tae. I’m -‘

When you’re coming down from your fake orgasm, you open your eyes to see Taehyung staring at you.

He looks livid. Like an angry lumberjack.

Your husband slaps your pussy, and your hips jerk.

‘What the hell was that?’ he snaps.

You bite your lips and hold your tongue.

Taehyung turns you over, pulling your hips up. He’s in you almost instantly, shoving his rigid cock into you.

You push your face into the pillow to muffle your cry.

His hand is kneading your ass, hard. ‘Don’t you ever fucking fake it with me again,’ he hisses.

Unbelievably, this is making you wetter than the entire preceeding twenty minutes did.

‘Tae,’ you cry out.

He slaps your ass.

‘Did I say you could speak?’ he asks. His voice is stern, cold.

His thrusts are relentless, he’s fucking into you like he wants to punish you. His hand slips over the front of your pelvis, helping you slam your hips back onto his cock.

‘Can you feel me? I’m hard as a fucking rock for you. Don’t I deserve more than a fake orgasm, baby?’

You’re moaning, crying out. Like this, the stretch is so good, so good you can barely speak. Taehyung sets a relentless pace, dragging you to the edge.

He licks up your spine, landing on your neck.

‘Tae,’ you cry out.

‘I’m going to fuck you until you can barely stand,’ he says. He dribbles spit onto your ass.

He shoves two fingers in your open mouth. ‘Suck,’ he says, and you do, getting them as wet as you can because you know where those fingers are going next.

By the time Taehyung pushes his spit and arousal soaked fingers into your ass, you’re beyond words.

‘Tae,’ you moan.

He stills. ‘Are you ok, baby?’

‘Yeah,’ you pant. ‘Don’t stop.’

He fucks you with his fingers and his cock until you’re sobbing his name.

‘Tae,’ you whimper.

You can’t see his face, thank god, but it sounds like he’s smirking.

‘You gonna cum for real this time?’ he asks.

He twists his fingers, and you cum so hard your vision goes white and there’s white noise in your ears.

You think that Tae must cum too, because when you’re back in the room he’s kissing you fervently in that way he does every time you have sex.

Your legs feel rubbery as you stand to go to the bathroom. By the time you make it back you’re wiped out. You dive into bed and face plant into the pillows.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. ‘I’ve got you water, baby,’ he says.

You sit up and take a sip.

‘Do you hate it that much?’ he asks. He sounds so disappointed your heart melts.

You force yourself to look him in the eye.

‘I could never hate you, my love,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I can barely see your face.’

Taehyung frowns. He’s stroking his beard, another new and repulsive habit he’s picked up in Helsinki.

‘You hate it so much you faked an orgasm,’ he muses.

‘It felt like I was being eaten out by a scrubbing brush,’ you say. You shudder. ‘Or a hamster.’

Taehyung looks at you sadly. ‘I’ve heard some women like it.’

‘You looked sexy with stubble,’ you suggest.

Taehyung brightens. ‘Can I keep it for the weekend? I’ll shave on Monday.’

‘It’s your face, babe, you can do whatever you want.’ Now you feel bad.

‘Are you making me choose between having this incredible beard and eating you out?’ Taehyung asks.

You shrug. ‘I can go without head.’

‘But I can’t,’ Taehyung says. ‘I need your pussy.’

Your stomach rumbles. ‘Come on Tae. I’ll fix breakfast. We can talk about this later.’

Taehyung holds your hand as you walk to the park after breakfast.

‘I thought you’d like it,’ he says.

You smile up at him. ‘How did you find out about my Merlin fetish? It was a toss up between him and Gandalf.’

Taehyung scowls at you. ‘I’m better looking than both those guys.’

‘You are, baby. I just need to get you a pointy hat and some robes and we can role play.’

Taehyung pouts, or at least you think he’s trying to. Who can tell.

***

You’re fixing breakfast the next morning when Taehyung comes out of the bedroom, beaming at you.

He’s dressed in a sharp suit, tie perfectly knotted, hair styled.

He’s shaved his beard but left his luxuriant moustache.

You sigh inwardly.

‘How do I look, baby?’ he asks, smiling at you.

You haven’t the heart to burst his bubble.

‘Looking sharp, baby,’ you say. His pornstache tickles you as he leans in for a kiss.

‘I’ll shave the rest tonight,’ he promises you. ‘I just wanted to try out this look first.’

You pull him in for another kiss. ‘Sure baby,’ you say, waving him off.

Marriages are about compromise, after all.

©hamsterclaw 2022

#ggukkiefaves #ggukkierecommends #taehyung x reader #m:kth #l:drabble #>3K #g:humor #g:smut #r:established #au:husband #rate:mature #s:pussyslapping #s:spanking #s:analplay #fic: 7 hours

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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🌷 Awww this felt too real - real couple, with real problems, and real conversations. But they deal with it with as much love and respect, which makes the whole vibes domestic and humorous. Stay-at-home dad!Hoseok is something I didn’t know I needed to read about? He’s just described really well and I love how secure and confident he seems even when things are not exactly perfect. And OC, I think it was nice to capture that working mom guilt too (FU Sharon) - something you’d hear from working moms. I just love how this drabble managed to be realistic yet warm and endearing same time.

How about #9 with Hoseok 😘😘

Hoseok & 9 “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!

2k, domestic fic, husband!Hoseok, angst, happy ending

a/n:I was so excited to do this one! Thank you for sending it in - this got sort of angsty but I hope you like it!

Keep reading

#ggukkiefaves #ggukkierecommends #hoseok x reader #m:jhs #l:drabble #>3k #g:fluff #g:humor #heartwarming #r:established #au:husband #au:parenting #au:rapper #au:unplanned #how they got together #rate:g

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ggukkiereads · 4 years ago

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🌷 fun, fluffy and steamy dilf!jungkook scenarios that are so easy to read and something I look forward to every time there's an update 🥰. I love the drabble when it was reverse and it's Jungkook jealous (because it's always the dilf getting the attention so why not the mom for a change? 😉).

>>...DILF!JK MASTERLIST

an ongoing series of drabbles surrounding dilf! jungkook

# grocery store

# stairs sex

# smile

# recital

# jealous

# spoiled

# parent-teacher conference

more coming soon...

#fic: dilf!jk drabbles #jungkook x reader #m:jjk #l:drabbleseries #3kto5k #r:established #au:husband #au:parenting #g:fluffsmut #ggukkierecommends

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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🌷 This dad yoongi is making me soft. It's such a realistic scene, nothing romanticized about having kids that I feel tired for the couple lol. And yet it's something I'd imagine Yoongi doing and these thoughts are doing things to my heart. 🥺

The Benefits of Co-Sleeping

Pairing: Dad!Yoongi x Mom!OC

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 0.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Yoongi is tired of waking up in the middle of the night to his daughter crying, so he decides to keep her in his bed at night.

Yoongi rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock. It was three am. All he could hear were the loud cries of his five-month old. He glanced over at the other side of the bed, where his wife lay, still exhausted and sound asleep. He climbed out of bed and headed to Isabella’s room. The moment he opened the door, her cries calmed and she looked towards him expectantly. He crossed the room and took her out of the crib. She laid her head against his chest and shut her eyes.

“Are you lonely?”

Isabella let out a few incoherent babbles before starting to cry again. Yoongi sighed, wondering if co-sleeping was really as great as Tae claimed it was. Yoongi turned around and headed back to his own bedroom, hoping Isabella wouldn’t wake Rosaelia up with her cries. He laid Isabella in the middle of the bed before laying down beside her. This seemed to calm her, because she almost immediately closed her eyes.

Yoongi pressed his finger into the palm of her hand. Isabella took this as an invitation to wrap her hand around his finger. He smiled at the sight.

“Are you tired, Isa? Go to sleep,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes briefly and grinned at him. Then her eyes fluttered shut again, sleep finally overtaking her. Yoongi brushed his thumb across her tiny hand before also allowing himself to fall asleep.

◇◆◇◆◇

Three hours later, Yoongi was awoken by his blaring alarm. Isabella was crying from shock and Rosaelia was not more than half awake and beyond confused as to how Isabella had ended up in their bed. Yoongi rolled over and shut off his alarm.

“Yoongs? Why is Isa in here?”

“She was crying last night, so I brought her to bed.”

“Oh…ok.” Rosaelia laid her head back on her pillow.

◇◆◇◆◇

After that, Isa started sleeping in their bed every night, and Yoongi had to admit that Tae had been right. He smiled as Isabella reached up and hugged his arm. She nuzzled her face into his arm.

“Is bedtime?” he asked, rubbing his hand over her head.

She cooed in response, leaning forward to chomp on his arm.

“Hey, don’t do that!”

Isabella giggled.

“Here, do you want this?” Yoongi asked, offering her her pacifier.

She seemed happy with this alternative, because she instantly latched onto the pacifier. Yoongi smiled and patted her back.

“Now is it bedtime?”

Isabella shut her eyes, and Yoongi took that as a yes. He chuckled and kissed her head.

“Goodnight, Isa.”

This is part of the Dad!BTS series that can be found here

A/N: I’m just feeding you guys baby content now :P Also this has been in drafts for like 3 months why couldn’t I just finish it 😑

It would be greatly appreciated if you reblogged the story if you liked it!

Taglist: @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @jinnie-forthe-winnie @taehoneycheeks @aianloveseven @bangtansjonas @fly-you-dam-fools

#ggukkierecommends #yoongi x reader #m:myg #l:drabble #>3k #g:fluff #r:established #au:parenting #rate:g #au:husband

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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🌷 Cutiiie! I love Namjoon being all giddy and excited about having babies. This just reminds me of all the times he kept talking about baby shoes and wanting to be a dad (attaching sc I've saved for months bc this Namjoon makes me weak). I laughed at the 'finally masters the art of carefulness' 😅. The ending was really cute too, Minwoo is so adorable 🥺

enchanted.

synopsis: › being married for almost a year now, namjoon thinks it’s time for you and him to start trying to build your own family together. so, to introduce the concept to you as enticing as he can, he prepares a romantic and cozy date night where he intends to drop the idea to you, his lovely wife, unaware that when he does, he’ll be getting the biggest and most shocking news in his life.

pairing: namjoon x reader

word count: 5.6k

rating: 18+

this one shot is also intended for @btscreatorscorner june workshop ! the theme is simply bts—that is why this fic is written in namjoon’s point of view :>

opening note. i was inspired to write this after rereading the first book of the harry potter series and encountered the part where seamus (i think) was telling the other students that the only time his father knew that his mom was a wizard was after their marriage lmao. also,, just watched the crimes of grindelwald movie so i was inspired by jacob and queenie’s relationship too hehe when i tell you i couldnt concentrate on the latter parts of the film when i had the idea for this fic ahdjavdja

Tonight is the night, Namjoon thinks, as he rearranges the scented candles scattered around the tub for the 7th time that evening. Tonight is the night I will charm my beautiful wife and ask if we can start trying to have a family together.

To be fair, he already has been trying to drop a few clues since the beginning of the week, just right about the time when he finally gained the courage to somehow plant the idea to you piece by piece.

At first, he casually talked about how one of his college friends just welcomed their first baby boy to the world, and you grinned as he showed you the picture through his phone, cooing and saying that the baby was indeed really cute.

And then three days after that, he purposely stayed in the toddler section of the department store while you were trying to look for a new blouse, Namjoon admiring the little baby shoes that looked identical to a pair he had back at home and pointing them to you when you found him there. You only smiled and said that they were so tiny and adorable when you spotted it, before ushering him to go with you to the cashier without another remark.

In short, Namjoon doesn’t think you’ve gotten the hint yet—or maybe you just weren’t directly responding to it in a way that meant you and him were on the same page because perhaps deep down, you were unsure like he was if having a child together would be something the other wanted.

But tonight—this fine and romantic night—he was going to end all of that and get straight to the point. He was going to butter you up, make you feel loved and cozy in your shared home, and after you’re all happy and giddy in his arms, he will gradually ask you with an ever so understanding smile to make you feel at ease if you’ve ever thought about building a family of your own with him yet.

“Namjoon?”

His hand freezes on the candle, about to light it up again after a gust of wind that came out of nowhere blew the flame away, but hearing your voice, he immediately drops it by the top of the covered toilet seat and rushes to the front door of your house, seeing you there take off your shoes and coat with a tired smile.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says, walking towards you with outstretched arms.

You let out an airy chuckle as he lifts you up a little amidst your shared embrace, Namjoon kissing your lips briefly before pulling back and getting your bag for you.

“Long day?”

“Kind of,” you sigh, walking behind him as he heads to the master’s bedroom, “I still have some papers to check though. They’re not supposed to be returned soon but it’s good just to have things done earlier. Remind me again why I’m totally okay with teaching history to a hundred students who probably won’t remember everything I’m blabbering about in a few years or so?”

Namjoon laughs and places your bag on your desk, turning around just in time to catch you entering the room. He walks towards you and gives you another hug, a hug that you return with your arms circling around his torso. “Because you are brilliant and patient and kind—” he leans his head back to smile at you— “and anyone who gets the chance to be imparted with knowledge by you has probably saved a country in their last life.” He tilts your chin up and kisses you, lips languidly moving against yours. “Also, have I mentioned that you have an incredibly sexy brain?”

You chuckle, bringing your arms around his neck then.

When Namjoon first met you, he ultimately knew and believed that his initial perception of love at first sight wasn’t really some kind of bullshit that hopeless romantics made up just to give people the hope that you’ll meet the person you’re looking for the instant your gazes meet like he thought at the beginning.

Because indeed, when he first laid his eyes on you at the bookstore along the non-fiction section, he found himself pausing for a considerable amount of time, just staring at you, stuck on his feet, multiple methods to possibly approach you passing through his head at that moment—Namjoon just utterly enchanted.

He’s typically not a shallow person. He’s not the one who instantly falls for a girl without knowing her first or at least after just one cup of coffee. But when it came to you, he just started crashing and plummeting down fast. The next thing you know, he already made his way to where you are, asking for your number and if you were interested in having dinner with him sometimes. And as you said yes, grinning at him, practically beaming, he absolutely thinks that if he wasn’t going to marry you in the end, then he would have to lead a sad and miserable existence.

You give him one last peck before stepping back, your nose scrunching while you sniff. “Do I… do I smell something burning?”

“Burning?” His head snaps to your bathroom. “Oh my god, it can’t be.” He untangles himself from you quickly and goes to the mentioned room, spotting the left end of the bath rug in flames which he immediately gets water from the nearby sink to splash a lot of it in its direction, eventually disintegrating the fire.

It’s a good thing that it wasn’t that big to begin with—but yes, it was still pretty much in flames like what’s been established.

“I’m sorry,” he says next, turning to you who’s standing by the door frame, your expression more amused than mad thankfully, “uh, I was preparing a bath for you and lighting up these scented candles and maybe one of them fell of the places I put them on—” as if on cue, he picks up a candle by the floor close to the rug that causes him curse under his breath— “yep, one of them really fell off.”

Before he can apologize again, you come up behind him and kiss his cheek. “I appreciate it a lot, sweetheart. Maybe next time though, you make sure that you set the candles on flat surfaces.”

His neck turns red. “Noted. Would you perhaps be interested in eating dinner with me first? Or do you still want to go forth with the bath?”

“Did you cook?”

“No, it’s a take out from your favorite.”

“Well, eating dinner first it is then.”

Namjoon squints his eyes at you. “Hey, that’s a little mean, don’t you think?”

You laugh.

***

Namjoon proposed to you quite early on in your relationship. You and him have only been dating for a year and six months when he talked to his mother about possibly inheriting the heirloom engagement ring, saying that he didn’t need to waste more time only being your boyfriend when he could be so much more and could already see the life he would spend with you.

Of course, initially, his mother told him to contemplate more about the matter, about maybe talking to your parents or anyone close to you about it too—however, you’ve told him that you didn’t have any family left except for your cousin who was overseas, so it didn’t really help Namjoon change his mind or help him decide to ponder about it longer.

After a month or so of discussing it with his family and with your close friends, he proposed, and you obviously and wholeheartedly said yes, with tears in your eyes and your smile shining so happily that he just knows there won’t be dark and lonely nights waiting for him in the future anymore.

He loved you so much, it was amazing in its own right, for what he felt with you felt like what characters in movies or books would only have the chance feeling and never in real life.

“How was work today for you?” you question him next.

Since plan A obviously didn’t go according to what Namjoon liked, you and him are sharing a bottle of red wine in the living room, enjoying a slice of Chocolate Mousse as well after finishing eating dinner a few minutes back instead of spending time in the bathtub with Lavender and Cedarwood scented candles filling the room.

You’re leaning your back on the armrest of the sofa while Namjoon faces you and you also face him, his arm sprawled all over the top of the backrest, the both of you talking about the randomest things that happened in the last 24 hours.

Namjoon shrugs. “It was fine. There were new artifacts delivered though.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I haven’t reviewed much about them, but I heard from my colleague that they’re fossils of a Pterosaur which impressively does look like a dragon as what the media says.”

“Well, maybe because it is a dragon that was brought to the museum and not a… a, uh, what is it again?”

He chuckles. “A Pterosaur. And yeah, sure, of course—if we were in Game of Thrones.” He nods to your almost empty wine glass, still chuckling. “Do you want a refill on that?”

You smirk, drinking the last drops before handing it to him. “I don’t mind if I do.”

He reaches for the bottle in the coffee table, placing his on it for a second to refill yours like stated. As he does that, he can feel your gaze focused on him, can get a glimpse of your amused smile from his peripheral vision. He feels your fingertips graze along his knee and thigh, waiting for him to bring your glass back, and even if he thinks your said gesture is not rooted from anything sexual, he’s afraid that he’s going to get explicitly hard if you keep on doing it.

He breathes through his nose before unconsciously swallowing hard. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You take the glass and sip.

Namjoon does the same, drinking from his own.

“So,” you draw the rim away from your lips, “when are you going to bring up the reason why you’ve been sucking up to me since I got home?”

He almost chokes. “What?”

“Joonie,” you say knowingly with a snicker, “you can’t expect me to just assume nothing when you’ve been kind of over the top this evening.”

“Over the top? What do you mean?”

“Denial is honestly not a good look on you, babe.”

“I’m always this loving to you.”

“You fell asleep on me the day before yesterday while we were talking in bed,” you deadpan.

He clears his throat. “I was really tired that day, okay.”

“Usually, you’d ask me to cook you dinner when I get home.”

“That’s because I love your cooking, sweetheart, you know I do.”

“I know.” You grin, your hand going over to the table to put your glass there. “That’s why imagine my surprise when I get home and there’s apparently a bath ready for me and a take-out from my favorite resto.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitches, especially when you start crawling to his lap, discarding the glass he was holding by putting it on the table as well. You straddle him, smiling, and without anything to say first, lean close to kiss him, capturing his lips that still have a smudge of chocolate from the cake you two are eating. He kisses you in return, wraps his arms around waist, angling his face to the side in an attempt to kiss you fuller.

“Is this what you want?” you whisper, your hand gliding down from his neck to his chest. “You want me?”

“Yes,” he replies straight away, though suddenly getting a reminder of what he’s really supposed to be doing here, he changes his answer, gently pushing you off. “No, no,” he adds in a sort of panicky manner, and when you raise your eyebrows, he talks again, “I mean, yes, yes, of course, I want you—it’s like second nature for me to want you but—that isn’t, that wasn’t why I’ve been doing this.”

You reposition your hands to lay on his shoulders instead. “It’s not?”

“Kind of? Like, it can be the reason why since it’s technically part of the whole process—it’s just that it’s really not the main point.”

“And the main point is supposed to be...?” You’re trying not to laugh at his cuteness.

He takes a long breath.

This is it. This is now or never. He would have appreciated it though if he had more time to rehearse the lines in his head, to go through what he had to say to ensure that you would take it well and not have it as some kind of demand from a husband who’s ordering you to start giving birth to his babies. The last thing he wants is to have you feel like he’s pressuring you, because he really will be fine if ever you say no for now. He just at least wants to plant the idea to you early on so that you’ll know that he’ll be ready for it once you are.

“Can I butter you up more before I say what it is?”

You roll your eyes. “Is it really that bad?”

“It’s not. Well, not for me, it isn’t. I’m just not sure if it can be the same for you.”

“Does it involve something about our relationship?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Our marriage?”

“Kind of?”

“Babe, are we going to play the guessing game all night?”

“Fine.” He presses his mouth together.

“I’m all ears,” you assure him, massinging his shoulders with a smile. “Whatever you want to say, I’m all ears for it.”

He appreciates the comfort. “Okay, okay, so what I want to say is—” he glances down, not being able to look you in the eyes, his thumb rubbing nervously against the hem of your shirt— “well, I was thinking, that I think it’d be really great, if you and I, well, since we’ve been married for a considerably amount of time now, that we, you know, we start trying.” Namjoon bravely raises his gaze to meet yours at the last minute. “As in, we start trying to have a little you or a little me—or a little combination of us. Have a kid together. What do you think?” He chuckles.

In one of the scenes he’s been envisioning earlier while preparing all the scented candles in the bathroom, he imagines you grinning and agreeing immediately when he finishes asking you about your opinion about the subject because deep down, he’s positive that you want to have a family as much as he does.

However, you’re staring at him with wide eyes—not really disgusted or shocked—more like horrified, which honestly felt worse than the former two.

“Oh,” you finally say. “Oh. Oh my god.” You abruptly scramble off his lap.

Namjoon knits his eyebrows. “Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or a bad ‘oh my god’?”

“Oh my god.”

“____?” He faces you. “Is something wrong?”

You’re in your previous position beside him now, your head hanging low as you have both hands on either side of your face. It’s safe to assume that you appear very shaken by what he said, that he thinks he wants to turn back time just to prevent him from opening it up.

“Look, sweetheart, if you’re not ready for it, I understand. I’m not going to be mad if—”

You lift your head up and turn to him. “No, Joon, that’s not—I can assure you that I’m ready for us to have our own child.”

“You are?”

“Of course. Have you been with you? You’d make a great father. You’re so nurturing, and caring, and loving—and even if you’re not particularly gentle with certain stuff, I’m sure you’d be as gentle as you can ever be for our baby. But Namjoon,” you frown, your hand holding out to grasp his knee, the sound of his full first name not actually erasing his worries away, “I’m just—I need to tell you something first before we decide about something like making a family together.”

“Alright. What do you need to tell me?”

“I... I’m so sorry. I want you to know that I didn’t intend you to learn it like this.”

“What?”

“I truly didn’t mean to drag it on this long, but there just wasn’t a good time for me to say it and—”

“____,” Namjoon wrinkles his forehead, holding your hand to calm you and himself down, “what exactly are you trying to say? You’re scaring me a bit, you know.” He tries chuckling to ease the tension.

His mind is coming up with a bunch of bad scenarios, from ridiculous ones where you say you can’t have his child because you’re actually secretly married to someone else and you managed to hide it because you’re living a double life—right down to realistic situations where you can’t have a child because you have a condition that doesn’t grant you the opportunity to bear one naturally.

Namjoon thinks that if it’s the latter, then it isn’t such a bummer like what you seem to be letting on, considering that he’s not opposed to adopting or surrogacy if that would be the path you’d both ought to take. He’s got enough life savings to push through with that option, all he has to know and be sure of is you, the most important factor he’s taking into account.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” you begin again, looking more agitated.

“To say what?”

“Joonie, it’s just that, I haven’t been completely honest to you. About, about what I am, and where I came from.”

He’s examining every part of your face, his eyes darting from one facial feature to another. “And?”

“And, well, I promised myself that I would tell you this when we get serious—and we did, we got married, and I swear I was going to really come clean by then but you have to understand that I’m just afraid that I might lose what we already have if I say it to you because Namjoon—” you gulp hardly— “I’m serious when I say that you’re the only thing I have left in this world. You’re the only thing that matters.”

His worry crumbles at that and he dares to reach out and place his palm over your cheek, an action that makes you lean against it in comfort. “Just tell me what it is, sweetheart. I promise, nothing will change. Till death do us part, isn’t it?”

“I know.”

“So, just tell me. I’m all ears.” He repeats what you said minutes ago with a teasing chuckle.

But you only frown. “I do hope so,” you mutter before you hoist your arm up, your attention flickering to the near bookshelf you had in your living room.

Namjoon follows your gaze, watches as you clench your jaw and scrunch your forehead together, in deep concentration, and just as he’s about to ask what exactly are you attempting to do, you twist your wrist ever so slightly in an elegant fashion and say, “Accio.”

A book flies straight to your palm.

And his hand on your face dramatically drops.

***

“You’re a wizard,” he states, pacing back and forth around the living room, “I married a wizard. Wizards are real. My wife is a wizard.”

“Joonie—”

“You lied to me.” He halts, facing you with this betrayed expression and it shuts you up again. “You… you lied about everything. You lied about your, your family, and then you lied about your educational background—what the hell even is a Hogwarts? Or, or whatever it is that you’ve been talking about—”

It’s been an hour since you sat him down and explained every single detail about the fact that you indeed are a wizard. Namjoon at first was just not having it, despite seeing you perform a magical stunt right in front of him, contemplating if this was all a dream he’s having after perhaps falling asleep in the bathtub earlier while he was prepping the bath. However, the more that you were enlightening him about your history, the more that unexplainable things in the past are slowly making sense.

For instance, there was this time when you and him were still dating and being the clutz Namjoon is, accidentally broke an exquisite China plate you owned back in your apartment while you were having lunch together. He panicked and apologized profusely, promising that he was going to buy you a new and even better set, but instead of being mad or at least accepting his offer, you just laughed and kissed him on the cheek, saying that it was fine and that he didn’t need to bother.

The following week after that, he saw the same plate back in your glass shelves inside the kitchen, totally unscathed and good as new. When he asked you about it, you merely just raised your eyebrows and insisted that it wasn’t the same plate like he thinks it is, convincing him eventually that it wasn’t but the thought still lingered in his mind from time to time.

There was this occasion too when you two were having a great date that ended with the both of you heading to Namjoon’s apartment, and just when you’re about to go through his doors, Namjoon abruptly discovered that he had left his keys inside his car that was in the parking lot. He excused himself, literally sprinting back to the elevators to retrieve it as fast as he could, though before he could even press the down button, you had called him and claimed that the door was already open, scolding him playfully about it the second he came back to confirm your declaration.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon gets another surge of realization. “All this time. I knew there was something freaky going on—I just didn’t think that it would constitute to you being a wizard, ____!”

“I know, I know, I didn’t know how to tell you—”

“You’re a wizard, you can do magic,” he keeps on mumbling, still marching in circles, “magic is real, all those things exist—maybe dragons even exist—oh my god, do they really exist like—”

“Namjoon.” You block his way as he’s about to make another turn, this time gently gripping his biceps. “Look, if you need some time to process this—if you need me to move out and leave for a while so you can be alone with your thoughts—”

“What? No,” he quickly disagrees. “I’m not letting you leave. I’m… I’m confused and kind of mad at you for deceiving me like this but, but, I’m not letting you leave.”

You exhale harshly, your breath coming out as shaky. “I just feel like you should at least get a free pass if you want out.”

Namjoon frowns.

It’s unfair that you look stunning under the chandelier light. But it is the reason why he purchased it in the first place when the both of you were furniture shopping, commenting how its brightness and tint was enough to make you glow regardless of what time of the day it was. Looking at you now, standing in the right spot where it gives you this angelic and homey aura, Namjoon finds himself and every piece of anger in his system disintegrating.

He takes a step forward and cups your cheeks. “Out? No, absolutely not. You’re staying here.”

“But, you really should be able to form your thoughts alone without me being here, being a nuisance—”

He brings your mouth to his and kisses you hard. “No.”

“Namjoon.” You sigh against his lips, Namjoon shaking his head.

“No. You’re staying with me.”

You stay still for a few seconds but eventually you kiss him back, murmuring how sorry you still are and how much you love him over and over again, tears pouring down from your eyes.

His heart is beating fast in outrage and his mind is going crazy with all the information it just received. Though despite the revelation and this double-crossed feeling he has in his chest, he can’t seem to be as candidly angry as he wants to be.

Because when you said you were giving him a free pass to leave you, it dawned on him that it doesn’t matter whether you’re a wizard or an ordinary and mundane human like him.

Sure, he’s confused about you lying to him and not being open with your true life, but he can see why you did what you had to do. He understands that the world is not particularly accepting of people like you, and as you mentioned while you were explaining for yourself, even when you were with your own people throughout your childhood and teenage years, you still didn’t feel like you belonged.

It was something about a wizarding war, you explained, where your family, who remained blindingly loyal to a dark wizard, always forced you to side with them despite your values contradicting theirs. And when the bloodshed ended, a lot of innocent and brave lives being taken away, you instantly decided to flee to another country to escape your dark past, wanting to abandon it all and start fresh, thus taking on a new life and a new persona.

The only place you ever felt like you truly belonged in was in his arms, as he heard you express, and hearing you admit that, he realizes that he’s willing to engulf you in them for as long as you like.

***

His lips have not dared to leave your skin ever since he kissed you in the living room. He only slides it to your cheek, to your jaw, down to your throat, and to the valley between your breasts whenever you need a breather.

The same goes for his hands which have not stayed put as he pushed you to the bed. He moves it from your face, to your neck, to the curves of your sides, even as far as between your legs—just anywhere he knows would elicit any reaction from you, preferably a reaction that meant you were enjoying his ministrations.

At this moment, you’re writhing beneath him, Namjoon thrusting in and out at a rather leisurely pace. He’s lapping his tongue below your ear, a spot he’s aware gets you aroused in seconds, and at the way you’re holding onto his back, your legs tightening around his hips, your walls squeezing him so good, it sends him a clear message that you’re going to come the more he keeps it up.

“Joon,” you gasp, his cock pummeling to you faster, “I’m going to, going to—fuck, right there, baby.”

“I know.” He goes sloppier and noisier, palm pressing against your stomach, balls hitting your ass. “I know, I know, shit. Keep on doing that.”

You clench your walls and Namjoon moans.

He’s as close as you are. Maybe closer, as the only thing that’s keeping him from coming is that he needs to have you come first. He wants to feel you pulsating wildly and shouting his name in euphoria before he goes through his last drive, wants to see your thighs convulse and your whole body go haywire at the absolute pleasure he is giving you.

Namjoon just wants you to experience the vigor of all the emotions that he’s facing this very second.

There’s still anger in his system somewhere, and he put it into good use while fucking you rather than shouting his lungs out, demanding things he knows he won’t even get satisfied getting the answers from because by then the both of you will be resenting each other, arguing and fighting and hurting each other with things you don’t even mean to say.

“Fuck, fuck, Joon, I’m, I’m—” You don’t get to finish your sentence for your orgasm ripples in your core, Namjoon pounding onto you harsher, allowing you to ride your high.

With your cunt enveloping more firmly around him, your dirty sounds arousing him further, your nails digging on his shoulder—he’s definitely not going to be able to hold on for another long minute. He’s far too consumed and intoxicated by the mix of emotions and of you to be able to control himself and just take a moment to hang around. All he’s thinking of is you being here, of you being with him, and of you choosing this life with him despite everything.

As he’s about to pull out like he always does, you nip his earlobe and whisper.

“Please,” you whine, “please come inside me.”

He throws his head back from your collar to stare at you.

“If you still want me,” you add, heaving, “if you still want to have a family with me—please, please, I want you to be the father of my kids—”

He kisses you, rendering your speech unfinished, groaning. “Yes. Me, me too, sweetheart.”

“Namjoon, I love you. So much.”

His heart skyrockets at the words and murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ in return, Namjoon blows his load inside you, surging his cock roughly for a few more strokes to drag out his orgasm until the very last moment, grunting as he slams his hips towards you one more time and stops, supporting himself to stay on top of you by sinking his forearms on the sides of your head.

You run your fingers through the strands of his hair, tugging and pushing his face closer so you can plant your lips on his. The both of you make out for a while, your tongues exploring the other’s mouth, moans and quiet intakes of breath being emitted along the way—and it’s worth mentioning that Namjoon keeps his dick inside you the whole time, preventing his cum from seeping out of your pussy before his shaft goes back to its original size.

“Are you still mad?”

“A little.”

“Okay.”

He opens his eyes, glancing at you. “Don’t lie to me again.”

You bite your lip and nod. “I won’t. From now on, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” You peck his chin, his cupid’s bow, his nose. “No more secrets and lies. I promise.”

“No more dark past and hidden identities?”

“No more.”

“Good.” He sighs. “Because I don’t think I can survive it if you reveal more shocking details. And I know it sounds like I’m joking but you seriously can’t pull this shit again.”

You smile at the lightness of his tone, more at the way he finally offers a smile. “You’re the greatest thing that ever happened to my life. Do you know that?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, nonetheless pleased. There’s just no way he can stop his heart beating for you.

“Do you?” you say again when he doesn’t reply.

“I do,” he nuzzles against your shoulder, humming, “and you’re the greatest thing to ever happen to mine. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if you bewitched me to be like this.”

“Hey, absolutely not,” you snort, chuckling that makes him grin, “I might have come across as a pathological liar—but I’m no manipulator, sweetheart. I haven’t even used that much magic since I’ve been with you. I’ve been trying to mugglefy myself.”

“So, what you’re saying is—” he’s still non stop littering your skin with kisses— “I’m just hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Damn it.”

You giggle.

He leans his head back to gaze at you, his grin stuck in place as you stare back with your loving eyes, and he definitely thinks even if you did already say no to his question, that he might as well be bewitched with how strongly he finds himself falling for you in every second of every day.

***

A few months later, you get pregnant.

You get pregnant and you give birth to a healthy baby boy.

Namjoon loves him with all of his heart, takes care of him and tends to him with so much affection. He reads him dozens of books, tells him hundreds of fascinating stories, and he makes the effort of actually learning how to change diapers and how to lull him back to sleep whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night, hungry and in need of milk to calm him down.

Namjoon finally masters the art of carefulness especially to human beings ever since he became a father—in honor of yours and his human being, of course—the said beautiful baby boy who has your eyes and has his dimples. He wishes that when he grows up, he’ll have your wits, intelligence, and your bravery too.

But one night, just as Namjoon’s cleaning the dishes, waiting for you to arrive home front he university, he hears the laughter of his little boy, urging him to go check on him at the living room where he lays there on his crib, and when Namjoon does a quick peek, he discovers that your child managed to inherit a certain something from you as well.

His baby is laughing at the floating toys around him, amused and entertained, while Namjoon widens his eyes and immediately gets his phone from his pocket to call you.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice enters his ears. “What is it, babe? I’m already near the bus station, if you’re having trouble with Minwoo—”

“I think he’s just like you.”

“Huh?”

“Our baby,” he hastily tries to get the toys hanging up in the air one by one, flabbergasted but trying to remain calm for the sake of keeping himself in the right mind, “I think he’s a wizard too, ____.”

Instead of getting a proper response, he only hears complete silence and vastly familiar ‘Oh my god’.

note. this fic earns a spot in the hall of written works by me so HEHEHEHE (also, this kinda feels like my other joon fic's twin but more light and more emotions? JSHDSJD meh,, i just love writing about domestic and husband material joon AHJHAJS)

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

#namjoon x reader #m:knj #l:oneshot #5kto10k #g:fluffsmut #g:supernatural #g:sliceoflife #More on slice of life #r:established #au:husband #au:parenting #au:hogwarts #rate:mature #s:unprotected #ggukkierecommends #s:creampie #s:cockwarming

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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🌷 The feeling of falling out of love with something, not just necessarily with a person, because you stopped trying or striving for it is something we can all relate to. It felt so awkward when domesticity and intimacy became foreign for these two. Like how does a couple become strangers? I love the angst but I also like second chances and this fic is a good balance. I was either crying or hopeful all throughout; end of day, I know they are going to try but it's going to take effort and consistency to make it work - I like the fic's treatment of this part too. Ah what a good angst, I needed that. 😥

Love Is Not Over — knj

Inspired by lyrics from Love Is Not Over by BTS

Track 2 of The Playlist Series

S Y N O P S I S | Namjoon wants a divorce; he fell out of love. y/n has one request for her to sign the papers: Namjoon has to act like the husband he once was for the last month of their marriage before he stopped caring. Is 30 days long enough to save love?

P A I R I N G | Kim Namjoon, reader (y/n)

G E N R E | angst (a lot), fluff (a bit) ; PG-13

W A R N I N G S | none

W O R D C O U N T | 4.5k

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#ggukkierecommends #namjoon x reader #m:knj #l:oneshot #3kto5k #g:angst #r:established #au:husband #au:divorce #rate:g #r:breakup

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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Thirty whole years. And not a single person you can call yours.

🌷 I don’t think I can write a coherent reaction to this. At first, the hopping through different “universes” felt loose and disorienting. Because each universe offers something great but there’s an equal downside to it too. I think the closest universe I liked was Taehyung’s (but even that was crazy). By the end of the six alternate realities, I felt like everything’s back to zero and I was wondering where the story is taking me. When the reason for all this universe hopping was revealed, it all made perfect sense. That was brilliantly done, dear author 👏👏👏. It’s not about having multiple options, it’s about that one true thing. From feeling lost about the story to sudden clarity and conviction I had about the whole thing, what a perfect jimlingss™ execution.

Suddenly, we just have one mission to look forward to: which is that ending OC wanted. I am in awe at how smooth the transition is from the light-hearted vibes to angst. I honestly thought it was going to be a cute fic but then I found myself holding my breath 🥺

I know this is the author’s last piece and I think it’s brilliant to make it an OT7 one. I actually love each universe and how the members fit their respective scenarios. It just seems difficult to pull off a Guess-the-Member type of fic because honestly how can you choose among these fine men? For some reason, the fic reminds me of a couple of author’s fics like TTBU (which is a masterpiece and one of my ultimate favorites), Until Yesterday (though I think I rooted for Yoongi here haha sorry I digress), and The Seven Kinds of Love. It feels nostalgic thinking about these fics as I was reading The End because I started thinking beyond the story; along the way, I thought of the great stories you've shared through the years. It’s such a bittersweet moment and I think this is the perfect swan song, too. Made me sad but at the same time I am satisfied. Thank you, dear author for this great story 🥰.

the end.

➜ Words: 31k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst

➜ Summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.

➜ Notes: Loosely inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

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#bts x reader #m:OT7 #l:oneshot #30k<#g:fantasy #g:angstfluff #plottwist #r:established #au:husband #there's one member who's a fiance #au:multiverse #au:guessthemember #au:adaptation #au:ghostspirit #au:toalltheboys #rate:g #ggukkierecommends

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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Don’t be silly, be happy

🌷 Something I've read in the past that I just had to read again. I know this seems heartbreaking and people would veer away from such pain. But I think it's such a lovely concept that just goes straight to the heart. It's so rare to read a fanfic where it's the son's POV and the presence of the member is only through the letters. I cried, dear writer. I'd cry per letter then calm down to read the POVs of Namjae and OC. Maybe because this is based on a true story and I thought it's so touching for a father to write these guides for the people he'd leave behind. Namjoon even covered every possible essential situation that may arise (like that 'open when you realize you're gay'). I feel that it's so sad and yet it's so touching too. I actually feel like writing someone a letter today after reading this. ❤️. Just a precious gem I recommend everyone to read 🥰

Namjoon; open when it’s...

❝i watched Just Kidding News talk about this article and it just… IT HIT ME SO HARD SO HERE IT IS. /opens curtains which reveals this scenario ►3500 words | scenario © (photo credit)

The end is never easy to predict—well, it is when Namjoon’s laying in the hospital bed with nothing but broken hopes and empty promises filled just for his son, of eight years old nothing wise in his mind apart from homework from school, childish games and cute puppy love crushes for the girl next door. Every day he has to go through seeing the two people in his life approaching him, seeing him plugged up and depending on machines to keep him alive as he smiles, laughs with his son, watching you try to hold back the tears as you sit in the corner of the room, until it’s time to bring your son back home and it’s a piece of heaven that Namjoon gets to experience each day as you sit by his bed, allowing your son play outside with a few close friends who always tag along to give you some personal time with the man who put a ring on your finger.

He leans in and rests his face in your neck, of basking in your warmth and everything in between you have to offer when you kiss his forehead, down to his cheeks, pale as the sickness sucks it all out of him but it’s the man you’ve come to love—with or without the sickness, he’s the man you call yours.

He smiles like the first time ever when you kiss him, he smiles the widest when you’re smiling and even with the tears streaming down, you’re so beautiful to his eyes that he wipes the tears away, the same time you rasp, “I’m going to miss you so much…”

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#ggukkiefaves #namjoon fic recs #namjoon x reader #ggukkierecommends #m:knj #l:oneshot #3kto5k #g:epistolary #heavyangst #g:angst #au:husband #au:parenting #rate:mature #tw:majordeath

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ggukkiereads · 3 years ago

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You toss the kiss on the pile between you, and it lands on top of...your sadness at losing the boy you once knew.

🌷I feel a bit sad reading this. It’s not even a sad ending, actually a hopeful one. I guess it just feels heartbreaking how the two ended up like this? It doesn’t help that after seeing their interaction during the marathon made it seem like they are good partners and they have good relationship dynamics. There are bits and pieces here we don’t know what led to the breakdown the same way there are so many things to be discussed for them to be okay. I think making the ending a bit open is smart, it’s a certain hopeful ending to give themselves another chance but same time there are so many things to work on. I’ve met and spoken with enough people/couple who went through similar scenario to know that people try to work it out despite this kind of falling out. Would love to see the two of them in a happier future too. 🥺

7 hours

How did you get roped into walking a marathon with your soon-to-be-ex-husband?

Pairing: Taehyung x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut, angst

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit outdoors sex, swearing, reference to miscarriage, infidelity

He’s familiar but different from the last time you saw him. You’d have noticed him even if he hadn’t told you he was going to be here.

You’ve always noticed him. He’s beautiful, of course, warm golden skin and thick dark hair raked carelessly back off his forehead. His dark brows are usually straight slashes across his forehead, unless they’re drawn together, like they are now.

He’s looking at your legs in the unexpectedly revealing leggings you got online without noticing the sheer panels across the thighs.

When he gets close enough you’re the first to speak.

‘Hi Tae,’ you say. You want to smile but the history between you stills the curve of your lips.

He’s not doing much better. A corner of his mouth twitches upwards briefly. His voice when he speaks, is that familiar rich baritone you fell in love with. It’s got deceptive warmth, his voice, it makes him sound caring even when he doesn’t. You don’t think he really cared, by the end.

‘Hi Y/N.’

You’d promised each other you wouldn’t be bitter about the past.

You wait for the safety briefing. You are together, you’re doing this walking marathon together, but you’re standing so far apart you doubt an onlooker would be able to guess how well you know each other.

And you do know each other well. There was a point in your life when you wanted to spend forever with Tae. It’s such a cliche that forever’s never as long as you think it’s going to be.

Taehyung glances over at you as you both go through the warm-up exercise the instructor is chirpily exhorting people to join in with.

You catch his eye because you’d been looking over at him too. You’d been admiring the muscles in his back. Tae’s never been a gymrat, but he eats well and he’s genetically blessed.

As you line up at the starting gates, Tae pulls a banana out of his bag. ‘Want one?’ he asks.

‘No thanks,’ you reply.

‘I have a whole bunch,’ Taehyung tells you. He pulls a brown paper bag out of his pack.

You snort. ‘Why would you bring a whole bunch of bananas?’

‘Sugar, electrolytes,’ Taehyung says. ‘They’re a marathon essential.’

He’s acting like he’s done a marathon before. He hasn’t, and neither have you. Unless you count enduring the final stretch of your failed relationship.

‘Ok sure,’ you say, just because you think you’re about to start and you want him to put them back in his bag. You take a banana from him.

It’s a cool crisp winter’s day, perfect weather for a marathon that’s going to take you around the city. As the starting horn goes off, you’re reminded by a man with a bullhorn that no running is allowed and to look out for cars.

Taehyung reaches for your banana peel and tosses it in a bin. You focus on trying to get into an even rhythm with him.

At this point you’ve spent more of your life walking close to him, touching him, than walking apart from him.

He doesn’t seem in any hurry to speak, even though this is the whole reason why you’re doing this marathon together.

You don’t want to ruin it either. It’s been so long since you last spoke to him without anger, and though it’s not at the surface now, you know it’s still in you. You’re still so angry it feels like a knot inside you, a snarled mass of rage you can never forget.

You’ve never had a problem forgiving Tae. It’s the forgetting you have trouble with.

Taehyung’s looking at you now. ‘How’s work?’ he asks, neutrally.

‘It’s ok. It’s been busy lately,’ you say. You’re an executive assistant to a comms director in a social media company.

He’s an activist for the environment, passionate about climate change. He was a lawyer, before this. He’s eloquent, articulate, and you’re sure the fact that he looks like a beautiful avenging angel doesn’t hurt either. He’s in huge demand. He has so many speaking engagements he has his own assistant, something that’s blown up over the last couple of years.

You met at university, before all this. He was just your Taehyung then.

You blink away the memory of Tae at university. He’s always been a decent guy, unlike his equally good-looking friends. He’s never gone through a fuckboy phase. Cocky, yes, borderline arrogant, yes, but he’d never given you a reason to doubt his loyalty to you. It made it all the more devastating when you found out.

‘How are you?’ you ask. You’ve settled into an easy rhythm now, the other marathon walkers have dispersed, and there’s distance between the pair of you and anyone else. You feel like you’re in your own bubble.

‘I’m ok. Been travelling a lot. Seems ironic for a climate change activist.’

You smile, wryly. ‘The rules don’t apply to you, do they?’ The words are barbed, and you almost wish you could swallow them back down.

Taehyung smiles back but doesn’t say anything.

‘How’s Jinx?’ he asks. Jinx is the grey shorthair you got when you first got married and moved in together. She’s always been more a fan of Tae than she has been of you, but strangely, she’s put up with having just you around since Tae moved out.

‘Same.’

Taehyung points to one of the yellow arrows delineating your route. ‘We’ve got to turn left,’ he says.

You hate it when he tells you what to do. You sigh, because you know you’re being unreasonable. He’s just showing you the direction – if someone else did it, you’d thank them.

It’s only because it’s Tae.

Taehyung turns to look at you again. ‘Am I annoying?’

‘Yeah,’ you say. You laugh. ‘No, you’re not that annoying.’

‘You’re annoying too,’ he says. He actually sounds a little huffy about it.

‘Yeah? Why am I annoying?’

‘You think you know everything,’ Taehyung replies, raising an eyebrow. ‘Not everything has to be your way to be right.’

His words roll off you. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.

‘And you never listen,’ you reply, voice low. You’re struggling to keep neutral, because you can feel the anger in you bubbling to the surface.

‘I’m listening now,’ he retorts. He runs a finger through his hair, and his eyes flash. ‘I’ve got nothing but time now.’

‘You don’t listen to me,’ you say, hopelessly.

‘Avoid sweeping statements,’ Taehyung says. His eyes flash. ‘Isn’t that what Fred said?’

Fred was your marriage counsellor.

‘Fuck Fred,’ you say, venom in your voice.

‘Fuck Fred,’ Taehyung chimes in, vehemently.

You stare at each other, and you laugh despite yourself. ‘I’m not here to take sides,’ you say, mimicking Fred’s deep voice.

Taehyung’s better at mimicry than you. ‘That’s not the underlying issue here,’ he says. He sounds just like Fred, and you laugh again.

You pull at Taehyung’s arm so he doesn’t step out in front of a car speeding along the road you’re trying to cross.

‘They said to be careful about crossing roads,’ you say, rolling your eyes. ‘See? You didn’t listen.’

Taehyung looks at you, expressionless. You cock an eyebrow at him, challenging him to contradict you.

You’re at the five-mile mark before he speaks again.

‘Isn’t there a rest stop soon?’

You fish the map you were given out of your pocket.

‘Half a mile, apparently,’ you say, tracing a finger along the paper. ‘Why?’

‘I need the bathroom.’

You wrinkle your nose. Taehyung’s bathroom habits are a mystery you unlocked when you lived together. You guess once you’ve lived through shared norovirus nothing is really sacred.

You feel a sudden pang of sadness. You’d cleaned up after him after norovirus, and he’d done the same for you after –

You wonder if things might have worked out differently if you hadn’t had your miscarriage. Tae’d seemed indifferent about children, you hadn’t really talked about it before you got pregnant. After he’d found out, though, he’d seemed happy, bright, optimistic.

Your shared history is filled with moments like this, pockets that burn bright through the fabric of everyday. He’d held you in your shared bed, and you hadn’t really cried, but you still remember the wet of his tears on the back of your neck as he’d sobbed silently after you’d lost the baby.

You haven’t cried since, but the grief sometimes hits you, reminds you of its background presence.

Taehyung’s looking at you, and you wonder if he can hear your thoughts. You were together for so long you wouldn’t be surprised if he can pick up inklings. He’s always been more perceptive than you’ve given him credit for.

You look up and notice the distinctive blue banner signifying a rest stop.

‘I’ll wait inside,’ you say, gesturing to the signs that are advertising hot coffee.

Taehyung looks askance at the row of portable toilets set up outside.

‘Beggars,’ you say.

He rolls his eyes. ‘Got any – ‘

You’re already passing him wet wipes, antibac gel.

‘Want a coffee?’ you call out after him.

‘Maybe,’ Tae replies.

It’s exactly the kind of annoying answer he always gives you, postponing a decision rather than making it right away and saving everyone bother.

You head inside and queue up for coffee. You grab an extra pastry for Tae just in case. You’re looking around the room when you see another familiar face.

It’s Minho.

You’re not proud of it, but after you and Tae separated, you had a brief fling with Chan Minho. He’s a lawyer who used to work with Tae before Tae moved on to activism, and when you’d seen him at the bar after you found out about Tae and his assistant, you’d thought, why not?

You pretend to be studying the flyer on the wall, but you hear your name anyway.

You turn to face Minho. ‘Hi,’ you say, pretending you’ve just seen him.

‘Hey,’ he says, smiling. He’s gorgeous, attractive in a way that’s different from Tae’s brooding, intimidating good looks. Minho looks friendly, open. He’s the golden retriever to Tae’s Doberman.

You wonder what your subconscious is trying to tell you about how you view men.

Minho’s still smiling at you. ‘I didn’t know you did marathons?’

‘It’s my first one,’ you say pleasantly. The fling with Minho had ended amicably, you think, you’d used your recent promotion as an excuse, saying you were simply too busy. The truth was, after Tae, everyone else seemed bland in comparison.

That’s a secret you’ll take to your grave.

You’re chatting to Minho when Taehyung comes up to you both. He reaches for your second coffee cup as though he actually had asked you to get him a coffee. He nods at Minho. ‘Hey.’

Minho looks at him curiously. ‘Are you doing this together?’

‘Didn’t Y/N say?’ Taehyung asks.

‘You never came up,’ you say smoothly, smiling innocently at Taehyung.

Taehyung stares at you for a moment.

Minho says, a little awkwardly, ‘well, see you around, guys.’

Neither of you say goodbye to him.

‘I didn’t realise you knew Minho that well?’ Taehyung asks, an edge to his voice as you toss your coffee cup in the trash.

You look at him. Is he really doing this right now? You bristle at his audacity.

He looks back at you evenly.

‘I didn’t realise you knew Hana that well?’ you ask, mimicking his tone.

Taehyung, maddeningly, takes his time answering.

‘I slept with Hana once, and I’ve regretted it ever since,’ he says, finally.

You’re walking fast, faster than the pace you set at the beginning. You’re trying to burn off the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the sound of Hana’s name coming out of Taehyung’s mouth.

Taehyung’s keeping up effortlessly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Taehyung says.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

‘You should be,’ you say, quietly.

‘So what, just because I slept with Hana that gave you free rein to sleep with Minho? We’re still married, Y/N!’

‘Don’t quote the sanctity of marriage vows to me,’ you seethe.

It hasn’t escaped your attention that the other walkers are giving you a wide berth.

‘I see you’re not denying it,’ Taehyung says. There’s no anger in his voice now.

‘Yes. Minho and I fucked.’

Taehyung looks like you’ve slapped him.

You’re not going to let him make you the bad guy.

You’re both equally culpable for the demise of your marriage. It’s not even about the infidelity – that was just a symptom of how things had spiralled between you.

It came down to a choice, and at the end of the day, each of you had chosen fucking someone else over going back to the pain of not being able to communicate.

You’re more similar than you knew.

***

You’re on the tenth mile when Taehyung speaks again. ‘Those two in front of us. Did you see the names on their race bibs?’

So this is how it’s going to go. You’re adding your infidelities to the growing pyre of unspoken things between you.

‘Beauty and the Beast?’ you snort.

‘I think we can take them,’ Taehyung says.

‘We can’t run.’

‘You can walk faster can’t you?’ Taehyung scoffs.

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he accelerates.

This is what you’ve always loved about Taehyung. He’s serious, he’s responsible, he’s sexy as fuck, but your favourite thing about him has always been that he’s fun.

Your husband is so much fun when he wants to be.

You’re hurrying to catch up with Tae. He turns back, boxy grin flashing at you, and you realise you’re also smiling.

You catch up, and he holds out his arm. Automatically, you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, and he tucks his arm close.

‘Where did you get your leggings?’ he asks.

‘Online,’ you reply, raising an eyebrow.

‘Sexy,’ he says.

You hope your cheeks are flushed enough that your blush doesn’t show.

He’s on two missions now, one to catch up with Beauty and the Beast, and one to make you blush.

He’s always been good at whatever he puts his mind to.

‘Your tits seem bigger.’

‘They’re the same size they always were,’ you retort. You turn away so he can’t see your face.

Taehyung tilts his head at you. God, he’s so handsome.

‘How’s your dick?’ you ask.

‘It’s fine, thank you for asking,’ Taehyung replies. ‘I’ve been working out.’

‘Working out your dick?’ you ask, feigning innocence.

He laughs. ‘Want to find out?’

‘No thank you,’ you say, looking at him sternly.

You’re so close to your targets you’re going to have to pass them or invade their personal space.

You veer right, and Taehyung veers left.

He tugs your arm. ‘Come on,’ he says.

You change direction and overtake Beauty and the Beast.

‘You feeling ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. You? How are your feet?’ you ask.

Taehyung looks down at the red and white running shoes on his feet.

‘They’re ok.’

‘You didn’t buy new shoes just for this did you?’ you ask.

He shrugs. ‘My old shoes were falling apart.’

‘You’re meant to break them in first,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

Taehyung looks at your shoes. ‘Your shoes are new too.’

‘I’ve walked many miles in these,’ you say. ‘Some of us prepare.’

‘I can tell you’ve been training,’ Taehyung says. ‘Those leggings show off a lot.’

As you’re formulating a reply, he slides his hand over your ass and gives it a squeeze.

You step away from him. ‘Stop it.’

‘I’m your husband,’ he says, smirking at you.

‘Marital rape is a thing,’ you point out. ‘You’re the lawyer.’

‘I’m not raping you. If we fucked, it’d be consensual,’ Taehyung says.

Infuriatingly, Taehyung’s not wrong. By the time he moved out, you hadn’t slept together in a while.

It’s not because there was anything wrong with the sex. It was the one thing you’d always got right between you. But when the communication had stopped, the sex had stopped too.

You haven’t slept with anyone since Minho, and it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Tae.

You remember the first time you and Tae met, in the library. You’d dropped off some books in the return bin, and he’d been waiting behind you as you scanned your ID.

You’d been used to boys checking you out at university, so you hadn’t even needed to look at him to know he’d noticed you.

It was a new thing for you to notice him. He was the most gorgeous guy you’d seen in a while.

He was taller than you, broad shouldered, floppy haired. He’d smiled at you as you walked past him. ‘Hey,’ he’d said.

You’d looked at him. ‘Hi.’

‘You’re in my politics class,’ he’d said, with such confidence you’d stopped walking. ‘I’m Taehyung.’

‘Y/N,’ you’d replied. ‘Done the assignment yet?’

‘I think I need help. What are you doing after this?’ he’d asked, smooth as silk.

You’d gone to his room, and you’d had sex on his desk because his bed was too covered in books and papers.

He hadn’t needed your help at all, and you’d both known it.

Your relationship with Taehyung was easy, so easy, at the beginning. You’d gone from hooking up to going on dates in a progression that felt completely natural.

Taehyung’s never been shy about letting you know how he feels, and you’ve always taken your cues from him.

You were the couple, out of all your friends, that everyone would have bet on to last.

You would have bet too.

You would’ve gone all in.

***

You’re putting your feet up, stretching out on the grass as you and Taehyung stop for lunch.

‘They’re providing us with a lot of food, considering it’s a marathon,’ Taehyung remarks. His face is tipped to the sun, and you take a moment to admire how beautiful he looks.

It saddens you to think this might be the last time you spend together.

You’ve got an appointment with your lawyer next week, to sign the divorce papers. Taehyung had suggested doing this walking marathon together, one last chance to talk.

It’d sounded crazy when he’d suggested it, but it had also sounded fun. And then you’d started fundraising and then you couldn’t let your donors or your chosen charity down. So here you were.

Here you are, with your beautiful husband on the most beautiful day of the year so far, and your heart is breaking.

Is this what people mean when they say you have to hit rock bottom to come back? Because you’d thought you were already at the bottom, and you’re scared that there’s more to go.

Taehyung’s leaning forward. He kisses between your brows, so quickly he’s already leaning back before you realise he’s done it.

He’s looking at you, and it’s so hard to meet his gaze.

You toss the kiss on the pile between you, and it lands on top of your infidelities, your lack of communication, your sadness at losing the boy you once knew.

You’re going to cry, and you’re not going to do it in front of him.

‘I’m going to the toilets, then we should get going,’ you say. Your voice is steady, hopefully he’ll think you’re blinking from the blinding sun and not from the hot tears behind your eyelids.

Taehyung’s waiting outside the bathrooms when you come out.

‘You warm enough?’ he asks, and his voice is kind.

‘I will be when we get going,’ you say, composed.

Taehyung’s already draping his scarf around your neck loosely. It smells like him.

‘Who brings a cashmere scarf to a marathon?’ you ask. You’re going for snarky, but it comes out curious.

‘Your husband does,’ he says. He smiles at you. ‘Am I embarrassing you?’

‘Always,’ you say, but you’re smiling back.

Your feet are starting to hurt, but you set a steady pace with Taehyung as you head off together.

Taehyung glances at you. ‘I saw Minho leaving whilst you were in the bathroom. Think we can catch up to him?’

‘Easily,’ you say, determined. ‘And pass him?’

‘I want to beat his ass,’ Taehyung agrees. ‘We on?’

You’ve been walking briskly for half an hour before you spot him.

‘Black jacket,’ you say, nodding towards the distinctive tall figure.

Taehyung holds out his arm, and you grab it automatically.

‘Ready baby?’ he asks, and his voice is so warm you almost sigh.

‘Yeah.’

Minho’s stopped at a pedestrian crossing, waiting for the lights to change.

Taehyung takes a quick look at both sides of the road. ‘Come on,’ he urges, speeding up.

You jog across the road on Taehyung’s arm. A car swerves around the corner, going too fast, and Taehyung accelerates with you. The car horn blares, and you burst into giggles.

‘I want to beat him, but I don’t want to die doing it,’ you say to Tae.

Taehyung grins at you. ‘Come on, baby, commitment’s never been your problem before.’

You stare at him. ‘Is that --- a compliment?’

Taehyung snorts. ‘I compliment you all the time. Didn’t I tell you earlier your tits look banging?’

You ignore him.

The marathon route takes you along a river path. Taehyung looks out across the water.

‘I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise,’ he says.

‘Maybe when you retire,’ you say.

‘If we’re still single then, do you want to?’ he asks.

‘You may be single, but I won’t be,’ you say, just to be bratty.

‘Watch it,’ Taehyung says. ‘We’re still married.’

You realise he’s holding up his hand, showing you the platinum band he’s still wearing on his ring finger.

You look down at your ring finger, where a matching band with diamonds used to be.

‘Where’s your ring?’ Taehyung demands.

‘Sold it,’ you say.

Taehyung gapes at you.

‘I’m kidding,’ you say. ‘I didn’t put it on this morning.’

‘To annoy me,’ Taehyung mutters.

He’s so accurate you can’t stop the giggle that spills out of you.

‘Don’t ever say I don’t know you,’ Taehyung says. He sounds halfway between amused and irritated.

‘Come on, hurry up, we don’t want Minho to catch up,’ you say, changing the subject.

The mile markings seem to be getting further apart.

Taehyung pulls another banana out of his pack and tosses you one. You catch it deftly.

‘Thanks. I’m gonna need more than a banana for my poor feet though,’ you complain.

‘I thought you broke in your shoes,’ Taehyung says. He sounds as tetchy as you. His feet must be hurting too.

You finish your banana and pull your map out of your pocket. ‘It’s a mile to the next rest stop.’

‘I’m not gonna make it,’ Tae says dramatically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Walking a marathon’s just a head game. Your body can do it. It’s just your head telling you you can’t.’

‘Thank you for that insight,’ Taehyung says, sarcastic.

He’s grumpier than you thought.

‘Want to play a game?’ you ask.

‘Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all day?’ he asks.

‘Stop being such a brat, Tae.’

Taehyung scowls at you, and you scowl right back at him.

‘Come on. Let’s take a break. I’ve got some blister plasters that might help.’

‘Let’s try and make it to the next rest station,’ Taehyung protests.

‘If we carry on like we’re doing, we’re never going to make it. Because you’re being annoying, and I’m going to throttle you.’

Reluctantly, Taehyung lets you lead him to a shady tree in the park you’re walking past.

You’re fishing in your pack for your plasters when you realise his face is very close to yours.

He’s looking at your lips.

You reach out and cup his cheek. He closes his eyes, and nudges his face into your hand.

His lips are cold, but he tastes the same as he always has.

‘Tae,’ you murmur.

His arms are around you, pulling you to him.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he says. He licks into your mouth like he’s forgotten the taste of you. His hand cups the back of your head as you kiss.

‘I’ve missed you,’ you tell him. The words are simple, but you’ve never meant anything more.

His breath is warm on your cheek, stuttering as you roll your hips against his. He scoots up against a tree, glancing around before he pulls you closer. You’re in his lap, and your terribly impractical leggings have one great advantage in that they’re so soft you can feel his hardness between your legs.

‘Fuck, are we doing this,’ Taehyung gasps.

You roll your hips over his again. ‘Wanna stop?’

‘Fuck no,’ Taehyung says. He kisses your neck, tongue licking at your skin. One cold hand slips down your top, cupping your breast. You moan as he pinches your nipple.

‘Tae,’ you gasp.

‘Touch yourself,’ he grunts. ‘Get ready for me.’

You slide your hand in your leggings, rubbing against your clit.

Tae’s managed to get your breast out of your top, and he sucks hungrily at your nipple.

‘Fuck,’ you cry. ‘Tae!’

He’s fumbling at the waistband of his sweatpants, lifting his cock out, and despite the fact that you’re in a public park in the middle of a marathon, you take a moment to admire him.

Kim Taehyung possesses the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever seen, and you think it deserves its own moment of acknowledgement.

Taehyung’s smirking at you. ‘I’ll never get sick of the way you admire my cock, baby,’ he says.

‘It’s a fucking monument to phallic greatness,’ you agree. ‘Come fuck me, Tae.’

Taehyung grabs your hips, and in a feat of phenomenal coordination, bucks up into you as he pulls you onto him.

You can’t help crying out as he fills you. You don’t care if anyone hears you, you don’t care if you get arrested for public indecency.

You don’t care about anything except Taehyung and his big fucking cock catapulting you into a fast, intense orgasm. ‘Tae!’ you cry as you cum.

Tae groans. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ His fingers are digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises on them tomorrow.

You roll your hips again, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills inside you.

Taehyung’s still twitching when you lift off him, pulling up your leggings quickly.

You tuck him into his trousers, and he’s just decent when you hear footsteps approach.

It’s Chan Minho. He looks at you both. ‘I’m sorry. I heard you and wondered if anyone needed help.’

His gaze drops to your chest, and to your mortification, you realise your breast is still out.

‘Oh my god,’ you squeak.

Taehyung, unruffled, curls a hand over your bare breast, covering your nipple. ‘We’re good, Minho,’ he replies.

Taehyung tucks your breast into your top and cups your face until you look at him.

‘You have great tits,’ he tells you, straight-faced. ‘It’s probably the best sight he’s seen all day.’

You shake your head, making a little face at the cum that’s now filling your underwear.

Tae looks at you, commiserating. ‘Was there a lot? I haven’t cum in a while.’

You seriously consider punching him in the dick.

Taehyung holds out his hand to you.

‘Come on. We have a marathon to finish.’

***

Taehyung nudges you. You’re on mile 24, and the sun is setting.

‘Great view, isn’t it?’ he says, quietly.

You nod.

You’re pretty sure you have blisters on both your soles, and every step is painful, but you know you can make it to the finish line.

You’ve come this far.

Taehyung’s holding your hand, has been since you left the last rest stop. Your thumb is rubbing over the slightly tarnished platinum of his ring.

‘I meant what I said,’ he says. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ you say.

You smile up at him.

Are there more things to talk about? Probably. A seven-hour marathon probably isn’t enough to close the yawning chasm that’s opened up between you.

And yet.

You feel like you’ve thrown open the biggest doors, and the bogeymen behind them haven’t been as scary as you thought.

For the first time in a long while, you feel hopeful.

Taehyung’s looking at you still. ‘Are we doing this?’ he asks. His question is ambiguous, but you know what he’s asking you.

‘Do you want to come home, Tae?’ you ask.

His answer is immediate.

‘I think it’s best for Jinx if I do,’ he says. Then he sighs, and turns you to him, tipping your face to his.

‘I’d love to come home to you,’ he says. ‘I can’t think of anything I want more.’

You cup his face. ‘Then come home.’

Taehyung kisses you, softly. Then he presses your hand to his heart, and you cross the finish line together.

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